Lily's Daughter
by Just Look in the Mirror
Summary: She had always believed that she was in the right place ever since the night the strange yet humble half-giant had given her the shocking news on the eve of her eleventh birthday. Now, since the Dark Lord has returned, however, sixteen year old Antonia Potter has more on her plate than ever before. So, just how far will her nerves shoot through the castle's walls this year?
1. Antonia

A/N: A depiction of life in the Wizarding World following sixteen year old Antonia Potter. Now a sixth year student at Hogwarts, she is faced with obstacles going beyond the school work, and must risk her every action from here on out while being the 'Chosen One'. While preparing strenuously for the upcoming war, she is faced with a complicated love affair as well as truly discovering herself, and even accepting who she is.

(A full and more thorough Bio on her can be seen on my profile)

[Harry _does not _exist in this story, but many of the other usual characters in the spectacular series are included.]

*Based off of the events in _The Half-Blood Prince._

**Disclaimer: I do not own any _Harry Potter _characters, settings, traits, components, et cetera. All rights reserved to the author JK Rowling and Warner Bros.**

*Rated M for language, adult situations, violence and sexual content.

* * *

**Chapter One: Antonia**

She'd always study the few photos she did have of her mother.

It had helped her cope with her less than satisfactory life and the harsh living conditions in the Dursley household. From infancy, she'd been neglected by her Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, as well as receiving some rather unfair treatment from her husky and avaricious cousin Dudley.

At eight years of age, Antonia Rosemary Potter had already understood that life may not be what it is for other children as it is for her. Of course the loss of both of her parents at a very early age and the fact that she'd never be gifted with not much more than hand-me-down socks and perhaps a half-used coloring book that had belonged to Dudley prior, would be given to her on her birthdays and on the holidays. At least this had taught her not to be greedy with things in life, and it even made her a well-behaved child.

In her own compact cupboard below the stairs she'd enjoy spending her time alone with the five or six pictures she had of her late parents, Lily and James Potter. She wasn't exactly certain of how they died, for she'd been given numerous stories over the years. She recalled first asking her aunt about it when she was around four years old, and had been informed that they had been killed in a car accident while she was home with a babysitter. After that, her Uncle Vernon had let slip that they'd passed when a bout of chronic measles had hit them simultaneously. Then just a year earlier, they had both agreed on their 'victimization' of a terrorist attack in a local mall they were at while little Antonia was at the daycare center a ways away from the scene.

After these odd and likely false accounts she'd been told, she decided to just not mention it again. Better a secret than a ridiculous and even insulting fib, she figured. She had always been a smart girl, with high grades in all of her classes, the checks being far higher than her cousin's anyway, but that didn't mean she would be treated better at home. No, she was ignored greatly in her seven years at number 4 Privet Drive. She could only guess that it was because she was not _their _child, and that seemed to make sense in a way. She grew accustomed to her rare servings of dessert and the small portions of whatever they were having for breakfast, lunch or dinner. She had become thin because of this, though she personally valued her trim figure over the borderline obesity her cousin was facing. As for clothing, she had gotten a box full of her mother's old dresses that she wore at her age, and they had actually fit quite well, and she also had half a closet full of discounted dresses, pants and shirts from the local market, while Dudley was allowed crème de la crème brands and custom-made tops and coats.

She was alone for the most part at her school, just as she was at home. The few friends she did make were not allowed to come home with her, as restricted by the stern and bulky Uncle Vernon, and she wasn't given the transportation on the weekends to venture out to their homes, simply because neither of her guardians 'had the time' to waste driving her to and fro.

Nonetheless, she was getting along okay. She was thankful for her health, the nutrition she did receive, and the education. Yet, she couldn't help but yearn for the caring of her lost parents. She felt that it wasn't fair that she had been orphaned, deprived of the opportunity to feel her mother's love and her father's protectiveness. She knew nothing of either of them, for her Aunt Petunia would never speak much of them, not even of her mother, who was her aunt's younger sister.

On this particular Saturday, she was sketching, referencing one of the photos she had of her mom and dad together with their arms linked around one another and smiling valiantly at the camera while dressed in fall clothing while outside surrounded by crisp and colorful leaves. Antonia had been granted the same locks, eyes and perfect vision as her mother, the vibrant auburn color, long, silky and touched with light waves, and her eyes were large and a hauntingly beautiful green. She had her olive skin and perfectly shaped nose and lips. Judging the pictures, she didn't think she had any of her father's physical characteristics, so she guessed that she may have had his personality.

She had this odd scar on the right side of her forehead, just below her hairline. She saw it as a lightning bolt, personally, and thought it to be rather neat looking and unique, albeit her obliviousness to how she got it. She had always kept her hair long so she could cover it up with fragments of her locks while out in public, mainly at the request of her aunt, however, for she didn't want her "reeling in negative attention" from society.

She had just finished drawing her mother on the left side of her notebook paper when she heard someone stop at her doorway. Holding an orange crayon firmly in her left hand she glanced up at her tall and thin aunt with her arms crossed and her focus on the sheet her niece was drawing on.

"Have you completed your chores?" she asked with a nearly vitriolic bite. Her sharp tone had almost sent a chill down her spine.

"Y-yes, Aunt Petunia. I have."

She nodded carelessly in turn, seemingly to scowl at the imitation of her deceased sister and her husband. Turning away to leave her be, she heard her mutter under her breath "Too perfect, she was."

Her door was closed abruptly, leaving her to herself again, just the way she preferred to be.

* * *

All her life so far she'd been experiencing slight yet almost overlookable personal phenomenon. From a young age she felt that she could move small objects just by concentrating on them with enough profusion, and sometimes she could even swear that she had the capability to make certain items disappear and reappear again at her mental command. She had some interesting verification for this on Dudley's eleventh birthday.

The Dursley's and their nuisance of a niece had gone to the zoo at the request of the spoilt, overweight and young majesty. A short time after the young girl had just finished her sour lemon popsicle, she spotted her cousin taunting an inhabited snake. Being an admirer of all animals, this bothered the daylights out of her.

"Leave him alone, Dudley," she snapped at him once just feet away from the arrogant boy. He ignored her attempted assertive demand and continued to harass the large python while it was imprisoned behind a thick wall of glass. She could merely glare at him while he was leant against the transparent shield, laughing drunkenly at the poor captive that belonged out in the wild. Antonia angrily fantasized the glass suddenly disappearing, allowing her rude cousin to plummet right into the snake's pit—and so it happened. The next thing she knew, the large boy was stumbling over the low ledge, arms flailing and yells that attracted the attention of the people around, then collapsing a few feet below into the murky puddle, just a short distance away from the long reptile. Unnerving pubescent screams followed that startled the young redhead enough to pull her out of her trance-like state. She imagined it, and it happened. She stared at her hands in a stupefied manner as her aunt and uncle rushed over in a panic to get their son out of the attraction. In the meantime, the large cold-blooded creature slithered out of the tank, then added to the young girl's bafflement by hissing an audible "_Tttthhhanks_" at her. Despite the peculiarity of it all, she couldn't help but smile at him as he escaped out into freedom.

The ride home was not pleasant. While the aunt was in the back consoling her cold and drenched son in a fresh towel that was left in the trunk from their beach trip earlier that year, which of course was unattended by Antonia, her uncle was relentlessly barating her that what had happened was her fault, while she meekly argued that it "just happened" and she "had nothing" to do with it. That's what she wanted to believe anyway, but was that really true?

She'd be finding out for sure soon enough when her own eleventh birthday rolled around. Before that day on July 31st however, she had been continuously receiving personal letters in the mail. They were all addressed to her, but she was not allowed to see any of them. They were always burned in the fireplace or shredded to pieces.

On one Sunday, when the entire home was cluttered with hordes of letters addressed to Antonia Rosemary Potter of 4 Privet Drive, compliments to the parade of owls outside of their house, she had actually come close to ripping one open for herself until she was roughly taken into her large uncle's arms and lost the envelope due to his forceful grasp of it out of her feeble right hand.

Then once her birthday came along, she was lying on the dusty hardwood floor of an abandoned hut out on a small chunk of land surrounded by seawater, when she heard large and boisterous footsteps approaching the door, while wishing herself a happy birthday in the dust of the floorboards. Suddenly, the door was thrown open by a gigantic man who had the appeal of your average lumberjack, with his burly gut and the vast amount of black facial hair that rested at his chest. He stomped in just as her guardians had rushed down the old stairs with a loaded rifle ready.

Antonia didn't feel as frightened as she probably should have been when the colossal man came her way after scoffing hard at her uncle before bending the metal of the rifle upwards to allow Vernon to shoot a portion of the roof off. A massive hand was presented before the small girl along with the introduction of the sasquatch who called himself Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts' gamekeeper and the 'Keeper of the keys'.

Antonia watched in amazement as the heap of a person retorted at her uncle for multiple reasons, one being for not informing her that she was a 'witch', that they had refrained from handing her her invitation to the prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry, and those awful lies about how her parents truly lost their lives. It was not until after this unusual man had told young Antonia that she was actually a witch, then allowing her to take that in, then leaving behind her family after much debate over her going to a school for "Magic tricks and tomfoolery", that Antonia had discovered that Lily and James Potter had been murdered by a very powerful dark wizard named Voldemort. She'd been warned not to call him by his real name but rather He-who-shall-not-be-named instead.

She had been spared from death thanks to her mother's protective spell cast over her before she had been killed. In result, this dark wizard had left a scar to mark his future vengeance. Though her guide had not told her that last part, for she was far too young and innocent to receive such forbidding news.

Though dumbstruck as she was by all of this, she could go along with it quite well, likely due to her age. It was only rational that an eleven year old had enough of an imagination left to believe in such things as magic when the evidence is clearly displayed, as she got to see once travelling through Diagon Alley. All the levitation and sights that could imply legitimate witchcraft was verifiable enough for her young mind.

And so she met Mr. Ollivander, who after giving a show of how she looked just like her mother, then assisted her in depicting what type of wand she'd be possessing. After going through an array of them, and nearly bringing down the entirety of the shop in the process, she was given a willow and phoenix feather wand, ten and ⅓ inches in length, similar to the one prescribed to her mother, in fact.

"Yer gonna need a pet tuh bring wit ya to Hogwarts, ya know," chimed the huge man beside her as they stopped by multiple pet shops.

"You are allowed to bring pets?" she asked quizzically.

"Yup, yer allowed a cat, toad or an owl, Anton-ya. Let's have a look inside, shall we?"

Excitedly, she led the way into a shop filled with owls called Eeylops Owl Emporium. Once inside, she almost immediately fell for a pure white owl with bold yellow eyes. She lifted the cage with the owl inside and looked pleadingly at Hagrid. He returned a large grin her way and paid for the elegant bird before heading out to the robing shop. She decided that she'd call her new animal, who was a female as she'd discovered, Cher, after one of her favorite muggle singers.

The remainder of that day was spent meeting astounded people who knew her already, enjoying icecream which she'd had few times in her life, trying on school robes and meeting a rather haughty blonde boy who she silently hoped she wouldn't meet again anytime soon, then bought the proper school supplies she needed, while running into a girl with thick hair and quickly becoming friends with her, then eventually going to the station a month later to Platform 9 and ¾ to meet a ginger haired family that seemed to be headed where she was going. After running through a brick wall and nearly struggling in bewilderment to take all of that in, she met Ron Weasley, and then that same witty girl named Hermione Granger who she had met in Diagon Alley a month earlier once aboard the Express. Then she would face a year like no other.

* * *

Her first year at a school she'd have never dreamed even existed taught her not only of mystical potions and charms, but also that you really cannot trust everyone you meet. The world is not such a safe place, and she did not realize this while residing full-time with the Dursley's. In fact, she believed that there was no place or people in the world worse than these people. Antonia had to learn the difficult way just how contrary her original perception was.

She was also struck by the harsh reality of having a duty. She was not the ordinary girl with futile goals that she thought she was. She was something powerful. A witch, one designated to somehow rid this whimsical world of this nefarious warlock. Though at just eleven, she couldn't quite grasp the full concept of what she was born to do.

And that didn't matter for now. After another awry summer home with the Dursley's, she had gotten herself into the trouble of her life when a house elf who called himself Dobby snuck into her bedroom to warn her to not return to Hogwarts. With age, she was gradually becoming increasingly opinionated and confident in what she wanted and needed, and she _wanted _and _needed _to return to the school she loved. In an obscene attempt to get the young witch to think otherwise, this elf had scurried down the stairs and made his way into the living room's threshold to threateningly levitate the Dursley's prepared array of gourmet desserts made for their guests. When Antonia still stood her ground with her decision, she had to cringe at the sight of those pastries falling onto the man and woman sitting with their backs turned to her. Of course Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia _had _to see her with her arms in the air, looking as if _she _was the one to do that wild deed.

After her uncle excused that she was 'mentally disturbed', she was locked into her bedroom and her windows were barred to prevent her from going back to Hogwarts on the first of September. This had been the plan until one of her best friend's, Ron Weasley, had shown up outside of her window one night with his older twin brothers, Fred and George. Once the younger Weasley had successfully detached the bars from her window via power of the Ford Anglia, the booming echo of the fallen metal piece forced the witch to move fast with packing up her belongings and hopping into her airborne transportation. Luckily, she was left with no physical harm aside from the light tingling in her ankle from her uncle's arduous grip around her ankle before he tumbled down into the bush directly below her window.

As memorable as that event was, it was beaten by what occurred to her at school that year. She'd gotten to truly discover the meaning of stress that year when students and staff were mysteriously attacked on a regular basis by strange entities that she'd soon find out to be the subliminal doings of the Lord Voldemort himself, in younger version.

After her endurance in the Chamber of Secrets defeating a massive snake and destroying Tom Riddle's diary, she thought that maybe from then on out situations would never be as severe as this, however, she, again, was very mistaken.

It didn't take the Gryffindor long to accept her life in the wizarding world, weird as it was, but she also knew that she was not through with facing challenges and tedious tasks.

Especially when her dreadful Aunt Marge paid a visit one afternoon in late July, on her thirteenth birthday. She had luckily seen little of this terrible and masculine woman in her years, but when she did have to face her, it was always quite tremulous. She had always thought her Aunt Petunia hated her to a crisp, until she met Marjorie Dursley, sister of her Uncle Vernon, and mistress of perhaps Satan himself.

Antonia, now a teenager, had grown a sense of defiance and self righteousness in her maturity. She had to learn how to fend for herself after making various enemies at Hogwarts, one in particular being Draco Malfoy, who seemed to detest her for merely respecting muggle borns and muggle born admirers, such as the Weasleys.

It was a rainy day when Marge was expected over for a visit. Shortly before her arrival, Antonia had been warned by the uncle that she was to be on her best behavior during his sister's visit, if she wanted her permission slip to visit Hogsmeade to be signed, that was. She halfheartedly agreed, knowing she would struggle tremendously with this, for on her last visit a few years prior, the oaf of an aunt had gotten carelessly intoxicated enough to reveal her true regards for her brother's niece, suggesting that not only would she have been thrown into an orphanage had she been at her doorstep that morning in early November those years earlier, but she admitted that it would have perhaps been best if her "doomed-to-die whore of a mother" would have just "aborted the little bitch" before "shit like this" happened. Youthful as she was, she knew well what that meant, and it took all the force she had to keep her hasty comments to herself, and not at the fat, ugly, poor excuse of a lady sitting at the table chugging down a bottle of hard liquor while she herself had to washed extra dishes, and struggle not to throw every swear she knew right at the horrible woman's face.

This year, she had the same fear, only worse, for Marge was to stay for an entire week. Just moments before Marge's arrival, she nearly begged her uncle if she could just stay in her room upstairs during her stay, and just as he was about to oblige, her Aunt Petunia refused to grant her the privilege because she was 'needed' to help out with extra servings of food and beverages. It was when Vernon had returned from the train station when she knew that this week would be the roughest she'd have to face in a while.

…

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the girl's turned out, Vernon," Marge informed her brother at the dining table that evening over dinner. "It there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anybody can do about it."

Antonia fought to pay no heed to her ruthless aunt's words, for she had to recall that bargain she'd made with Uncle Vernon earlier that day on how he would only sign her permission slip if she was on her best behavior. She assumed that meant keeping riposting comebacks to herself.

When she raised her glass, initiating Antonia to make like a maid and refill it with wine for the fourth time in less than ten minutes, she stated "It's one of the basic rules of breeding. You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there's something wrong with the pup."

'_Bitch!' _she screamed in her mind just as Marge's wine glass exploded in her hand, shards of glass flying everywhere along with droplets of the remaining red fluid. After some of the shock value had eased, she mustered "Not to worry. I did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. I have a very _firm _grip."

Petunia was giving the young redhead a look of both suspicion and severity. "Well? Is she going to clean up this mess?" inquired her beefy aunt with an apparently tenacious grip. Antonia forced herself to keep from rolling her eyes in annoyance while getting up out of her seat to retrieve some paper toweling. From the kitchen, she heard Marge continue to yack on about the wonders of bulldog breeding and gardening.

Her speech didn't take a turn for the worst until she began to again chastise just how pathetic the niece was. "Pardon me, but I do like to see a healthy-sized boy," she paused to wink at Dudley. "Ah yes, he'll be a proper-sized man, just like his father. Now this one here…" she directed her attention to the girl dabbing at the table to soak up the spilt wine before gathering up the glass bits, "Hmph, a runty looking thing she is. Quite ratty...you get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one like her last year. Weak. Underbred."

Antonia felt her face burn up in fury, but managed to keep her cool, even when the butch continued her assault. "It all comes down to blood. Bad blood, of course. Not that I'm saying anything against your family, Petunia, but your sister was a bad egg. They tend to show up in even the best of families, unfortunately. Then she ran off with a wastrel and here's the result right before us."

In a desperate attempt to ignore her aunt's insultery, she recanted proper broom-riding techniques in her head, though she'd never made the Quidditch team, nor had she wanted to. Though she found flying to be liberating nonetheless, and enjoyed doing it on her own accord. She could only distract herself with her own thoughts so much, however.

As a fresh glass was given to her along with the pouring of freshly opened brandy, she went on asking what her father's line of work was. Antonia could easily tell just how tense they both were to answer that. Petunia nervously put that he was unemployed. A hoot of laughter replied to that.

"Well! Just as expected! A lousy, good-for-nothing, lethargic scrounger who-"

"No, he was _not_," interjected Antonia quickly. Silence filled the area around them and Antonia had never felt so livid in her life.

"Up to your bedroom," ordered Vernon to Antonia, but just as she was about to happily obey, Marge raised an arm and stated otherwise.

"No, Vernon. She's going to stay right here and tell me of how her parents were _decent _in any way. Proud of them, are you? Went and died in a car crash, while heavily intoxicated, I presume-"

"They _did not _die in a car crash!" corrected Antonia coarsely while taking a stand.

"Oh, they did, you nasty little liar. Left you a burden on useful, hard-working relatives!" A porky accusatory finger was pointed at her. "Insolent little bitch. I'll have you know that-"

She stopped speaking for a moment. Her face began to distort and stretch out, as well as the rest of her plump frame. It looked as if she was being inflated. Her entire body began to balloon out, causing her pearl bracelet to burst apart, sending beads in every direction. Her knit clothing began to tear and stretch out, then she began to rise from the floor, up towards the ceiling.

"NOOO! MARGE!" bellowed Vernon as his sister rolled against the ceiling making an exit out of the dining room and out into the porch. She was outside by now and slowly elevating upwards as if she'd been pumped full of helium. Vernon made an attempt at hanging onto her ankles, but decided to let loose once he realized that he'd be joining her up in the clouds if he didn't let go.

As Petunia and Vernon stood agape outdoors, unable to do anything but watch their guest ascend to great heights while Dudley stood before the new television with his eyes glazed on the screen and spoonfuls of chilli being scooped into his mouth, Antonia took the chance to scramble away from the scene and charge for the staircase after gathering her suitcase from the cupboard to pack her belongings for an early leave.

She hurried down the stairs once ready only to come face to face with an infuriated and ruddy faced uncle. Before he could do or say anything that may scar her internally for a while, she whipped out her wand and shoved it towards the red-faced hog.

"Keep back," she warned, holding the wand directly in his face.

"YOU BRING HER BACK THIS INSTANT!"

"No, no, I can't. She is a ruthless dyke!"

That remark earned her a whip across the cheek that sent her backwards. "You are NEVER allowed back here once you're out that door!"

"I don't care! Anywhere's better than here!" she protested once quickly back on her feet and sprinting to the door with her luggage grasped securely in her hands. She ignored her throbbing cheek as she stormed down Privet Drive, then stopping to rest on the curb just outside of a park. A black dog had taken her mind off of those sorry recent events before a bus came out of nowhere.

She didn't give much question as to how they knew she was in need of transportation, but gladly hopped on in hope that she would be able to make it elsewhere before school was to begin.

…

Antonia learned that year that sometimes people who seem bad truly are not. She learned that sometimes society can be misleading when trying to define an individual. Sometimes people are framed for things they have not done. Sometimes they are good-hearted and just a part of the family.

Sometimes she needed to break the rules and use the Expelliarmus charm on professors who just couldn't seem to stop staring at this girl in particular. Though his haunting stare would at times unnerve Antonia to no end, that was not the reason she sent him crashing through aged and unstable walling feet away. She knew that this Sirius Black was not the man who she'd been informed of, but rather, quite a hero.

She learned that people would go to far lengths to reach out to her and capture her to hand over to the resuscitated Dark Lord. She would lose friends, as she had to understand the hard way the night of the Triwizard Tournament that night in her fourth year. She would encounter people in convincing disguises and believe they were who they said they were.

Fifth year would teach her to pinpoint exactly who the good and bad people were. Umbridge was quite a vile woman indeed, almost measuring up to the pure rubbish that Marge Dursley was.

She would lose her mentor, her godfather. Remus Lupin would struggle to hold her back from chasing down a certain sociopathic woman who'd just murdered someone whom she vitally needed in her life. He would let her go, perhaps involuntarily, perhaps not, and watch her sprint after the faithful follower of her greatest enemy like a mad dog, and she would not have the ability to produce a pain that would paralyze this Black sister for weeks, because Antonia had been taught better than that.

Now at sixteen, she could only anticipate her upcoming sixth year. The Dark Lord was back and ready to activate some terrible anarchy, and it was up to this chosen girl to bring him down. As she sat in this muggle café with that morning's _Daily Prophet_, reading about how she was fast becoming a controversial figure in the wizarding world, then going on to read: _FALLEN FROM GRACE: MALFOY'S WIFE AND SON LEAVE THE TRIAL_, she was confronted by a cute tan fellow in his late teens who initiated some flirty compliments, but Antonia was unable to return a statement, for her eyes landed on a white-bearded wizard donning turquoise cloaks and crescent spectacles outside the shop through the pristine glass directly after a freight train sped by.

Being the prioritized girl she was, she stood from her seat in the middle of the café and promptly made her way out the doors, overlooking the hot boy's "See ya later?"

A lionhearted smile was presented for her favorite elderly wizard. "Professor." Arms wrapped around the Head of Hogwarts and the gesture was returned.

"I'm sorry to _interrupt_, Antonia," he nearly teased.

"Interrupt? Oh no, sir, you weren't-"

"Take my arm."

She gazed at him, slightly confused at his slight abruptness.

"Do as I say."

* * *

A/N: And so _her _journey begins. Thank you for checking this out. Keep in mind that future chaps will include occurrences and situations similar to those in which Harry face, but with diverse dialogue from Antonia. It will include details from various works of the series, as well as her own experiences when faced with friends, enemies, situations, and especially Lord Voldemort. Feedback would be helpful. Review, for I'd like to know anyone's opinions so far :)

-JLM


	2. One of a Kind

**Chapter Two: One of a Kind**

Shrugging, she laid her palm onto Dumbledore's cloaked forearm for not a mere second before she was screaming, twisting and turning every which way for the whole of three seconds before coming to a halt that nearly threw her into the pavement face-first. Her head spun like never before and she felt a slight urge to upchuck, but forced herself to keep it down.

She was taken aback to see that her headmaster was well-kempt and perfectly composed in front of her. Struggling to catch her breath, she sighed "That...was _fun_."

"You did well. Most people vomit their first time," Dumbledore replied almost indifferently.

Once her view was properly in place, Antonia took the time to look over her surroundings. It was well into the evening at this point, and she could see houses and shops off all around her. It appeared to be a village.

"Where are we, sir?"

"Budleigh Babberton. Come, there's someone I want you to meet, Antonia."

He led the way towards a gate that stood before one of the homes. He stopped along with her once just a small ways past the opened gate and said "Wands out." She obeyed and withdrew her ten and ⅓ inch willow then warily followed Albus into the house. His wand was lit bright blue once the two entered. The house was dark and cluttered. Antonia lit her wand and took a few steps behind Albus as she followed him down a hallway to their right. She heard him whisper "_Horace_?" loudly enough for him to hear if he were in the next room. Antonia remained silent as they slowly made their way through this room and into the next. Again he quietly called his name as they carefully passed by.

Antonia paused briefly when she noticed red droplets splashing down on her face onto the _Daily Prophet _that was wrinkled and torn on the dusty floor surrounded by various household appliances. She looked up to see a large, dark and murky leak on the ceiling. Albus wiped a splotch of the odd liquid that had fallen onto her forehead and brought it under his nose, then turned around after hearing a light creak emanate from the light blue armchair against the wall in this very room. Just as the old man's wand touched the top of back cushion, a man's head sprung out, tearing through the cloth, as well as Antonia's nervous system.

"Oh hoo! Merlin's beard! No need to disfigure me, Albus," said the now deflating man who's spring riddings echoed loudly throughout the room.

"Well, I must say, you make a _very _convincing armchair, Horace," teased the gentleman in spectacles, just as his friend was adjusting himself back into what he was supposed to be.

"It's all in the upholstery. I came by the stuffing naturally. What gave me away?"

Dumbledore directed his lit wand upwards and confirmed "Dragon's blood."

A startled look struck him along with an "Oh ho…"

"Now for introductions. Antonia, I'd like you to meet an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn. Horace, well, you _know _who this is."

His head tilted lightly in response, then he stated "Antonia Potter." A light laugh followed.

"What is with all the theatrics, Slughorn? Weren't expecting someone else, were you?"

A scoff returned his way. "I don't know what you mean—oh, alright. The Death Eaters have been trying to recruit me for over a year! Do you know what that's like?! I can only say no to these people _so _many times, so I've been hiding like this for over a week. The muggles who own this place are in the Canary Islands."

"Well, I think we should put it back in order for them, don't you?" Albus suggested.

With a flick of his still lit wand, Albus guided all the clutter and wreckage back into their rightful places. The broken chandelier's ornaments were lifted from the floor and strung back to the ceiling and shards from broken picture frames were fixed into one piece again. The tipped lamp was risen back against the wall and books were neatly placed back on the shelf. The sight was quite amazing to Antonia, who needed a moment to realize that the chandelier's final piece was underneath her heeled toes.

"Don't think that I don't know why you're here, Albus. The answer's still no. Absolutely, and unequivocally _no_."

No sound could be heard but a light chuckle coming from Horace for a few moments, until he looked at Antonia and stated "Look just like your mother, you do. Lily, lovely Lily. She's exceedingly bright, your mother. Even more impressive when one considers she was a _muggle born_."

A tad offended by this, she replied "One of my best friend's is muggle born. She's the best in our year-"

"Oh! Please don't think I'm prejudiced! No, no, no, you're mother was one my absolute _favorites_."

He turned his attention to the wall aside them to a gallery of photographs. "Look, there she is, right in the front."

Antonia withdrew her eyes from him and walked over to the frames.

"All mine. Each and every one. Ex students, I mean."

She saw a girl in her late teens in front of a small crowd of people alongside a younger Horace Slughorn. Her hair was long, red, straight, and parted to the side, and she was wearing a loose pink and red striped shirt and holding up a beverage along with everyone else in the photo. While her eyes wandered the other frames, then fell on one of the Quidditch team with Regulus Black in the front, Horace yakked away about the other moving pictures and the former students in them.

Just then, Albus returned asking if he could borrow a copy of a knitting magazine. A disgruntled expression splayed Horace's face. "Yes, of course, but you're not leaving at this moment, are you?"

"Oh, I think I know a lost cause when I see one. Regrettable, I would have considered it a great personal triumph if you had considered to return to Hogwarts. You're like my friend, Miss Potter, here. _One of a kind_. Well, bye bye, Horace."

And just like that, the two were outside and down the path back out towards the village. Just when Antonia was about to question her headmaster's easy desist, she heard quick and stumbling footsteps from behind the closed door, then the door opened.

"Alright! I'll do it, but I want Professor Merrythought's old office, not that dingy closet I had before. And I expect a raise. These are mad times we live in. MAD!"

Leaning in, Albus admitted "They are, indeed."

Then he continued on, humming delightfully.

…

"Sir, exactly what was all of that about?"

"You are talented, famous and powerful. Everything Horace values. Professor Slughorn is going to try to collect you, Antonia. You would be his crowning jewel. That's why he's returning to Hogwarts, and it's _crucial _he should return."

They stopped right where they had arrived.

"Well, thanks for the introduction, sir," piped in Antonia in a purposefully fatigued tone. "Now, I suppose I should be returning back to-"

"You won't be returning to Little Whinging tonight, Antonia."

She had to raise a brow at that. "But, sir, what about Cher? And I need to pack my belongings-"

"Both, are waiting for you," he insisted, then held out his arm. Antonia gulped and reluctantly took hold of his arm, and kept her fingers crossed that she'd be able to keep that evening's tomato soup down during the ride.

* * *

"_Ugh!_"

She had apparated smack-dab into a rather large puddle out in the field at the Burrow, just a distance from the Weasley household. She trudged through the ankle-deep water, probably ruining her recently purchased three-inchers while doing so. She was luckily wearing a knee-length skirt tonight instead of the almost considered skintight Levi's.

She peered up almost lovingly at her second (or third) home as she approached the tall and wooden house. Once inside, she was immediately embraced by her three friend's and her motherly figure, Molly Weasley. She supposed that her owl's chirping had gotten the attention of all of them.

"Why didn't you let us know you were coming?" inquired mother Weasley while holding her spurious daughter's cheeks.

"I-I didn't know. Dumbledore-"

"Oh! That man! What would we do without him?"

There were smiles all around, as well as some short-lived odd behavior from Ron, while he was wiping at Hermione's cheek. As the gang looked him over with confused smirks, he excused "Got...a bit of toothpaste…"

…

In one of the first floor work rooms, Antonia, Hermione and Ron sat together with the patio door wide open, allowing the moonlight to flow in while a wad of that week's newspaper was burning to a crisp in between them on a small table.

"When did you get here?" Antonia asked her best female companion.

"A few days ago. Although, for a while I wasn't sure I was coming."

Shortly after Antonia shot her a confused look, Ron provided an explanation.

"Mum...sort of lost it last week. Said Ginny and I have no business going back to Hogwarts. Said it's too dangerous."

"What? Seriously?" asked Antonia, almost sardonically.

"She's not alone. Even my parents, _muggles_, know something bad is happening."

"Anyway, dad stepped in and told her she was being too paranoid. Took a few days, but she came around."

"This is _Hogwarts _we're talking about. _Dumbledore_. What could be safer?" Antonia suggested.

"There's been a lot of talk recently that...Dumbledore's gotten a bit _old_," Hermione put, almost awkwardly.

"Rubbish! He's only...um…"

"One hundred and fifty?...Give or take a few," Ron offered.

They all laughed unanimously, able to forget about all they were to face.

All the trouble that laid ahead.

…

Term was just several days from restarting, so Antonia, along with the rest of the trio, took the opportunity to explore Fred and George's joke shop, _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_. Antonia was observing the racks of glowing bottles of Amortentia with Ginny and Hermione, not that any of them had true intentions of actually using the product to their own advantages, but the twin managers' believed otherwise.

"_Hello_, ladies! Love potions, eh? They really do work."

The three of them rolled their eyes as the troublesome two began teasing their younger sister of her alleged boyfriend, Dean Thomas, and she remarked that it was none of their business in turn before walking off.

Antonia wandered the shop a little while longer with Hermione before they gathered Ron who was sneaking some over-priced merchandise into his pockets while his brothers were far out of sight. They were now out on the streets of Knockturn Alley.

Just as Ron had declared that he needed to make a pit stop at Flourish and Blotts for a book he had yet to pick up, out of the corner of her eye, Antonia spotted a familiar enemy through a cracked and stained glass window by one of the shops. She halted abruptly and informed Ron and Hermione. Upon closer inspection, she could see that he was with an older woman, likely his mother, she guessed. Once Draco Malfoy was stalking away, trailing behind the woman, Antonia began to follow right after him, her curiosity getting the best of her as usual.

"Antonia, let's not waste our time on him. C'mon, let's get over to Flourish and Blotts before they close-"

"Shh!" she interjected at Ron, far too determined to see what the platinum-haired Slytherin was up to to pay no mind. She chased after him from a ways behind, being wary to remain unnoticed by the two ahead, while Ron and Hermione followed after her, as if they had no choice but to.

She scurried along the narrow and dank alleyway during the chase, passing a disorientated homeless man mumbling to himself along the way, though she hardly took note of him, unlike her friend's tagging along, for she had her heart set on catching up to Draco. She knew damn well that he was up to no good, for he never was.

She stopped dead in her tracks once she saw him enter the dark arts supply market Borgin and Burkes from where she stood feet away. She leant against the cool stone walling at the end of the alley and watched scrutinizingly as Draco and his mother entered the shop. Once they were out of sight, she initiated the two Gryffindors behind her that they could get on top of the roof around the corner and inspect them from there. Reluctantly, they joined her.

"Why are we doing this? What could we possibly uncover by gandering at him from _up here_?!"

"Hush, Ronald," said Antonia tersely.

From the view below, she could see that him and his mother were looking over a large cabinet along with a few other people, though she had difficulty making out much of anything due to the ceiling boards and beams that were blocking the way. She and her friend's were quick to duck down once a wolf-like man began to turn around, seeming to suspect a stranger's uninvited presence. They allowed thirty or so seconds to slip by before slowly peering back down—to see a sheet of pure blackness covering what laid inside.

…

"I wonder what Draco was doing with that odd looking cabinet...and all those people." Antonia paused and glanced over the two sitting across from her with befuddled expressions. She wanted to see if they were on the same page as her. "Don't you see? It was a ceremony. An initiation."

"Enough, Antonia. I know what you're thinking."

"He's one of them. He actually did it."

Ron was the most baffled here. "...One of what?"

Hermione sighed. "Antonia is under the impression that Draco Malfoy is now a Death Eater."

Ron scoffed "You're barking. Why would You-Know-Who want a sod like Malfoy?"

"You have a better theory, Ron? Did he appear to be shopping around for cauldrons to you?"

"Pfft, well, he's a creepy bloke."

"It all makes sense. His father's a Death Eater. I suppose he just wants to make like daddy and follow up with the tradition. Go by his kin, so to speak. And Hermione, you saw it all with your own eyes."

"I don't know what I saw," she defended, only frustrating Antonia for being so indecisive.

She sighed lightly, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. "I need some air," she excused. She left the carriage and slid the doors shut, then made her way down towards where Draco and his crew usually sat.

Once just outside his area, she remained hidden from around the entrance, peering at him with her left eye alone. He appeared to be putting away luggage before turning back to his seat. Grasped securely in her left hand was a chunk of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that she had recently purchased from the twins' joke shop. She would use this to grant her quick access into Draco's luggage space unnoticed. She would have to act quick, however, for the effects did not last long.

She was fast to throw her distraction into the air—immediately darkening the entirety of this boxcar. She quickly slipped on her invisibility cloak and managed to squeeze past Draco who was still on his feet in the middle of the pathway, demanding to know what was going on.

Antonia stepped onto Draco's empty seat once at his table and grabbed onto the ledge of the storage rack above and lifted herself onto it. She then laid on her side and brought her knees up to her chest, struggling to make herself at least slightly comfortable on this small, holey and lumpy-surfaced space. She made sure that her cloak was wrapped all around her so as to prevent anyone, especially Draco, from seeing her. All that could be seen from their view below was a suitcase, merely resting atop the shelf above them. She would have to remain perfectly still for quite some time.

Another minute passed by before the thick, dark and cloudy air had cleared up. Pansy Parkinson had called for Draco to return to his seat, and he did so with lingering suspicion. Antonia shifted slightly and stilled herself to listen in closely to the conversation below her.

"Hogwarts. What a pathetic excuse for a school. I think I'd pitch myself off the astronomy tower if I thought I had to continue there for another two years," Draco stated coldly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" his supposed girlfriend asked, not being alone on the confusion.

"Let's just say I won't be wasting my time in Charms class next year."

After he complied this, his fellow Slytherin acquaintance across him began to chortle. Draco's façade went grim and his mood grew even more contempt.

"Amused Blaise? We'll see just who's laughing in the end."

…

The rest of the trip was silent for the most part. All she could make out were some details of Blaise's summer, and nothing from Draco. As a couple hours ticked on, she was on the brink of falling asleep, despite her rather discomforting position on this shelf. She forced her eyes open once she heard the train come to a screeching halt. They had arrived.

She kept still even as she saw the students getting off. She had to ensure that Draco was not going to see her. Through her cloak, she watched everyone else gather their belongings and leave, except for Draco, who just sat where he was, as if he had no plans of going.

Once this compartment was empty minus the two of them, she heard him tell his friend's that he needed to check something. Horror struck her like a ravenous lion on its prey. _Christ_. He knew something was up.

She gazed at him in pure terror as he shut the door and then closed the curtain, along with the rest of the curtains on board with a flick of his wand. She could hear her heart pound away in her chest and she could hardly control her frantic breathing. Had he really known? How did he, if so?

She thought to retract her wand and disarm him before he had the chance to strike her, until she recalled that she had stupidly left her wand inside of her suitcase. She was completely defenseless.

"Didn't your mummy ever tell you that it is rude to eavesdrop, _Potter_?"

Before she could even attempt to make a quick escape, a precise "Petrificus Totalus!" hit her ears as well as her entire body. The next thing she knew, her body was thrown off the shelf and onto the hard, carpeted floor. Her arms and legs were bound together, and her neck was stiff. She couldn't move her eyes, lips, toes, fingers or anything. She was completely immobile.

She could only watch as Draco almost cautiously made his way over to her. He then removed her cloak in one swift motion and stared predatorily down at the vulnerable girl. She felt her face burn in spite of embarrassment over anger, for her dark violet knee-length dress had worked its way above her waist, and her black panties were well-displayed. As if that wasn't bad enough, her attire had shifted enough to reveal a decent amount of cleavage. She could tell he was enjoying the view from his stance over her.

She fought with all her might to move even a fraction of an inch, but had no avail. She could have sworn her stomach made a literal flip within her when he lowered himself down onto her, on his knees. He made it so he was sitting on her waist.

He glared at her neckline while saying "Oh yeah. She was dead before you could wipe the drool off your chin."

She screamed obscenities in her head and audibly whimpered as he pervasively groped each clothed breast, running his fingers along the exposed valley of her breasts, taunting her for his own sick pleasure. The worst didn't arrive until he lowered himself further to meet his lips with hers. She writhed internally as he hungrily ran his mouth along her motionless lips in a cruel show of affection. Her lips were just barely ajar when she was struck by the body binding curse, but they were enough to allow him to skim his tongue along them and briefly penetrate his tongue into her mouth. He had his share of temporary merriment before breaking off the kiss and grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging profusely.

"So fucking beautiful. Bloody hell, it's _almost _a shame that I have to do this."

She saw and felt his clenched right fist swing at her nose with much force and velocity. His punch was certainly vigorous enough to break it, and there was that cringe-worthy snap that confirmed its damage. She yelped out as he did it, and he felt not even a hint of remorse.

He stood from his place on her lap and took a step back. Grabbing her cloak, he sneered "Enjoy your trip back to London, _sweetheart_." Her garment fell over her, making her undetectable to the naked eye again. Again, she could only ogle at him as he strayed over to the exit, threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him.

This was going to be one hell of a year.

* * *

A/N:

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights go to JK Rowling and Warner Bros._

Thank you for checking out chapter two. As you can see, Antonia takes on motives similar to Harry's, yet she varies greatly in certain ways as you will see later on. Language and adult themes will intensify as the story progresses, though I will add a *warning* at the start of a chapter containing sensitive material. Feedback would be gladly accepted. This is my first fiction for _Harry Potter_ so I'd like to know what you all think :)

-JLM


	3. Liquid Luck

**Chapter Three: Liquid Luck**

"Finite!"

Her cloak was lifted off of her and she was free to move her limbs. To her left was her good Ravenclaw friend Luna Lovegood, in a fuchsia coat with unique and colorful eyewear on.

"Luna! Oh thank the Lord! How did you see me?" Antonia blurted out enthusiastically.

Luna gracefully removed her wacky spectacles and chimed "Wrackspurts. Your head is full of them."

Panting lightly, she rose to her feet, aching from the fall. Disgust consumed her once she was hit with the realization that Draco Malfoy had his tongue in her mouth. She felt an immense urge to upchuck at the memory. She would need to get ahold of some mouthwash very soon.

…

Approaching the gateway, Antonia apologized to Luna for making her miss the carriages. Luna was easy to turn the other cheek, however. "That's alright. It was like being with a friend."

Mildly offended, Antonia replied "I _am _your friend, Luna."

"That's nice."

Antonia's scraped feelings were washed away once she was in contact with Professor Flitwick.

"It's about time! I've been looking all over for you two!" he scolded from a few feet below. "Names?"

With raised eyebrows, Antonia reprimanded "Professor Flitwick, you've known me for five years."

He scowled. "No exceptions, _Potter_."

"Who are those people over there?" Luna asked.

"Aurors. Security," the small music instructor answered blandly.

From the distance, Draco could be seen with the caretaker, Argus Filch, over by a pile of suitcases and luggage. They could be heard arguing while the gates were closing behind them. Just as Draco had called Filch a "Cretin" for mistaking a walking stick for a cane, Professor Severus Snape strolled into the scene and informed Filch that _he _could "Vouch for Mister Malfoy."

This raised Antonia's suspicions sky-high.

"Why does _he _get off free?" mustered Antonia silently, just before she was seen by the distant two, who both looked to be studying her like she was a final.

To add to her already vehement loathe for this blonde, pointed-faced Slytherin, Draco hollered "Nice face, Potter!" her way, before him and Snape stormed off towards the castle.

After Antonia (fruitlessly) raised her middle finger at his far-off turned back, Luna offered "Would you like me to fix it for you?"

"Well, um, have you ever fixed a nose before?" Antonia asked cautiously.

"No...but I've done several different toes. How different are they, really?"

Antonia made a quick and superficial consideration at that, really too desperate to have her bruised and crooked nose fixed to be dubious about _who_ fixes it and _how_ it's done. "Sure. Just...make it fast, please."

She watched anticipatingly as the eccentric fifth year girl raised her wand to her throbbing yet numb nose. She inadvertently yelled out once it was snapped back into place with the Episkey spell. She brought her right hand up to her nose and moved it around. She had healed it wonderfully.

"How do I look?" she asked, bringing her chin up and wriggling her nose pretentiously for Luna.

"Exceptionally ordinary," Luna relied simply, as she began to head for the entrance.

"Good."

…

"What happened to your face?!" Hermione fastidiously asked Antonia as she took a seat at their table next to Ginny. Blood was lightly trailing out of each nostril and she had to constantly wipe it away with her blood-soaked cloth.

"Malfoy," she answered hotly.

She absorbed all her friends' shocked expressions before continuing "Used the body binding curse on me...then he socked my face...Luna found me...I'll explain the rest later." She decided to exclude the details on her forced violation of lip-thrashing with the suspected newly initiated Dark Lord follower.

She wanted to rid their sympathy for her and asked them what she had missed. Ron explained that they were all reminded by the Sorting Hat to be "Brave and strong in these troubled times." Then he went on to scoff that it was "Easy for it to say" since it was a mere hat. Antonia strongly agreed. Oh, what she'd give to be inanimate for a day.

At that moment, Headmaster Dumbledore was at the stand, reach to welcome the students before him. "Very best of evenings to you all. First off, let me introduce the newest member of our staff, Horace Slughorn."

Clapping ensued from all around the room, except from the Slytherin's Table, for they were rare to be seen giving damns for occasions like this.

"Professor Slughorn has agreed to resume his old post as Potions Master. Meanwhile, the post for Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taken by Professor Snape."

Light applause followed, and the Gryffindors were especially quiet with his annunciation this time. "Now as you know, each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight, and you have the right to know why. Once, there was a young man, like you, who sat in this very hall, walked through this castle's corridors, stepped under its roof. He seemed to all the world, a student, like any other. His name...Tom Riddle."

The room filled with gasps and whispers of angst before he continued on. "Today, of course, he's known to all of the world by another name, which is why when I stand looking out upon you all tonight, I'm reminded of a sobering fact. Everyday, every hour, this very minute perhaps, dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls, but in the end, their greatest weapon, is _you_. There's something to think about...Now, off to bed, pip pip."

…

Exiting the Great Hall, Hermione had taken note of Antonia's lack of proper school attire, for she was still in her dark purple dress, only donning a baggy green jacket over it.

"Why aren't you in your robes?"

Still blotting at her relentlessly bleeding nostrils, she deadpanned "I found it a tad unnecessary, Mione. We're off to bed in like ten minutes."

"Yes, but you know it is _required_, Antonia."

Antonia laughed. "A bona fide player of the rules, you are. I've always admired that about you."

"Are you _at least_ going to tell me the rest of what happened?"

"Oh, what? The train incident? Believe me, I'd hate to relive the experience…"

"Well, how are you holding up with...erm, the loss?"

A twinge of lachrymose flowed through her system at the thought of his death. She had found Sirius Black to be the greatest role model she would ever have, even bypassing Albus and Hagrid. His murder had really taken a toll on her mental state, throwing her into a deep depression all summer long.

"Fine, I suppose," she lied. In truth, she had spent the whole of her vacation locked in her bedroom at the Dursley's, downing bottle after bottle of all the vodka and chardonnay she could obtain. Anything to ease the pain, and fade the memory. She had also taken up a habit to sneaking her Uncle Vernon's cigars from the compartments in both the garage and Vernon's 1988 Volkswagen. She giggled at the memory of watching Dudley bear the blame for his missing tobacco.

"I-I had been crying, for the most part," Antonia added just before they reached the Gryffindors common room.

"I'm terribly sorry, Antonia." Her mien was one of sorrow, similar to Antonia's. "Abstinence baubles dilligrout tapeworm quid agis."

Again, another complicated and peculiar password for the Fat Lady to hear before the two Gryffindors were allowed access into the dorms. The portrait swung open and the two stepped in. The common area was full of students from all years, and it appeared that none of them had any plans of going to bed yet. Though it was only 9:40 at night, Antonia was quite enervated from her ordeal that day. The assault back on the Express was the particular culprit for her lack of energy. She told Hermione to have fun with the others, and that she was going to shower and get to bed early.

…

She scrubbed diligently at herself in an attempt to rid all that remained of Draco's perverse touch. She shuddered at the memory of his large and rough hands grasping her covered breasts, and his long and slender fingers dragging themselves along her shown cleavage. His lips were so dry and his mouth had an abiding taste of firewhiskey to it. Her blood boiled and her mood switched to one of pure rage at the memory of being so vulnerable. She could do absolutely nothing but lay paralyzed as he had his way with her, though thankfully he didn't enact full-blown intercourse with her.

She felt ashamed that he was the first one to have touched her in such a way. Yes, Antonia was purely virgin. She had been kissed just once by a Ravenclaw student in her year and a member of her formerly activated Dumbledore's Army, Anthony Goldstein. Though, her relationship with him was very short-lived, simply for her lack of romantic interest in him. She was escorted by Seamus Finnigan to the Yule Ball her fourth year, and of course they never carried out anything more than their platonic relationship, despite Seamus' openness for dating such a girl as her.

She could only suppose that she was simply too reluctant. Not to be gotten wrong, she was a Gryffindor by heart; a true lioness, even. She was perhaps just a touch stubborn, however. Not with everything, but certain situations, perhaps ones that correlated with Voldemort. She knew her diffident ways had to change if she was going to be able to fight in this upcoming war.

She also knew that she could be very defiant, considering an incident that occurred just the year prior. She had been walking alone down one of the first floor's corridors headed to her Charms class. She had just recently enacted her plan to fight back at the enemies with her army of students from various houses, (except Slytherin, of course) when walking towards her was member of the Inquisitorial Squad, Draco Malfoy, with his usual narcissistic smirk playing along his lips and a cruel insult ready for her.

"Potter...looking rather drab today as usual...it's no wonder no one would ever date you."

It was the most out-of-the-blue low-blow she'd received that week, not to mention extremely inessential since she had done_ nothing_ to him in the first place, though she wasn't shocked, for she had grown used to his prickly antics. She refused to overlook this, however, and she was in no mood to ignore that comment.

"Piss off, you ugly prat!" she muttered through gritted teeth in return, hoping that he had heard her, but chose to keep on walking off. He had not.

"What was that, _Potter_?!" he shot back. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, and she put on a wide and accusing grin while doing so.

"I'm getting damn tired of your shit, Malfoy. So...just shove your little statements up your arse."

Little did she expect the Umbridge-certified 'good'-deeder to retaliate with a sharp slap across the face. It was damn forceful. Her left cheek throbbed and stung madly from its exertion. She tasted copper suddenly and realized that he had hit her hard enough to cut the inside of her cheek. She sucked on the side of her cheek in an attempt to soothe it and cease the bleeding, then went on to kick the snickering pureblood's groin. The guffaws had turned into groans of pain. His right hand went to his pant-clad manhood and he doubled over, cursing the dirtiest words Antonia had ever heard aloud.

She began to mock him and make fun of the torment he was now feeling, valuing her taken stance and giving him a taste of his own medicine, until she caught sight of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher standing with her arms crossed just feet away. She was in her usual overwhelmingly soft and pink knit clothing. Antonia still had those words _I must not tell lies _marred into her forearm from her last session of detention with Umbridge. She could feel her heart sink at the thought of how she'd be punished this time.

She had received three months of detention everyday after school for three hours each day, including the weekends. She almost regretted giving Draco that well-deserved kick, but then decided it was worth it whenever she saw him chastising her by means of cruel mockery.

What really played out again and again in her mind were his words of how "Fucking beautiful" she is. This had stunned the daylights out of her. Draco had done and said many inhumane things to her throughout the last five years, but he'd never said anything _like that _to her. He was adamant as well, for she could tell this in the severity of his tone. His voice was so devoid of even a hint of sarcasm. It was husky, deep and admittedly frightening. She could tell that he was in a rush to leave, and she was thankful beyond words for that. Had he stayed just a while longer, he'd have probably stripped her entirely and proceeded to deprive her of her innocence. She noticed that he was already on the verge of this by that hardness she had felt pressing against her pantied womanhood, as well as the clear bulge that stood out below his waist once he was back on his feet. He was most definitely aroused.

Why, though? Hadn't he hated her all these years? She pondered this as she vigorously shampooed her thick, wavy tresses. Unless of course, he had done it to merely put her through her deserved torment. He was perhaps just getting his comeuppance. That made sense. She had assisted in putting his wicked father in his rightful place behind bars in Azkaban, and he was infuriated about this, of course. At this figuration, she felt goosebumps spring up all over her body. She'd have to be extra careful this year. He would certainly be out to get her, and if she were to so much as run into him by an empty janitorial storage closet or classroom, then she was bound to get it.

While the obvious and best solution to avoid having her first-time be one from the pits of hell, she would just need to stay the hell out of his way, but there was a problem with that. She had to keep a close eye on him considering his recent tributions to her top enemy. If it was true that Draco Malfoy was indeed a Death Eater, then she would most certainly be getting very, very close to him.

* * *

That next morning, Antonia was going to spend her free period with Ron Weasley, for they had much catching up to do. They had spoken little over the holiday due to the sudden death of Sirius, which had really thrown Antonia into a long and deep depression.

Hermione had a class to attend, of course, being the hard-working and industrious girl she was. And she likely wouldn't function properly if she had she been deprived the opportunity to attend seven whole classes for at least five days a week.

Antonia and Ron, on the other hand, were not exactly offended at the thought of having some extra free time in their days. In fact, they both would take it to their greatest advantages, by standing on a small platform to the left side of the corridor swarming with students, watching Professor McGonagall in the middle of it all calling after misbehaving or lost students, and giving out relentless instructions to the passersby.

To others it would have looked as if they were just having their fun in their own world, satisfied that they don't have to spend their first hour of the day in a classroom. The elderly Head of Gryffindor took note of their fun being had, and decided that it would be better for them to spend their time doing something productive—in a classroom.

"Potter."

Antonia directed her attention to the Professor standing out in the middle of the hallway. Her stare was intent and almost cold. She, like every time this Professor called her over, felt chills run down her spine in slight angst.

"Damn…" she mumbled before stepping down and approaching her house's Head.

Shaking her head in disapproval, Minerva accused "Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

"Well, I have a free period this morning, Professor."

"So I've noticed. I would have though that you would have wanted to spend this time in potions, or is it no longer your ambition to become an auror?"

"It was, ma'am, but I was told that I had to receive an Outstanding in my O.W.L."

"So you did, when Professor Snape was teaching potions. Professor Slughorn is perfectly happy to accept N.E.W.T. students...with _exceeding _expectations."

Antonia felt trapped by her words. It seemed as if she had no choice but to do as she was recommended, or required, as this Professor had made it sound.

"Alright. I-I'll head there straight away, Professor."

"Oh, good, good."

She turned away quickly, all too ready to get out of this uncomfortable interlocutor and to class, since she practically _had _to attend. She heard her surname being called out again before she was even five feet away. She sighed lightly before turning to reface the stern woman.

"Take Weasley with you. He looks far too happy over there."

Antonia nodded in obligation, before gladly storming off and forcing Ron to join her.

…

"So, who is this 'Slughorn', anyway? You mentioned that you've met him already, didn't you?" Ron asked as the two headed for potions.

"Yeah, he's um, an alright man, I suppose. I'll let you be the judge."

"Right, then."

They both halfheartedly trudged on to a class that they did not care to attend. On a brighter note, Antonia was relieved that she was able to again consider her dream career in Magical Law Enforcement. It had been her plan since her third year. She had desires of hunting down the worst and most dangerous criminals of the Magical World and putting them where they belonged. Now that she was allowed the privilege to take the class she needed to pursue the line of work she wanted in several years to come, she could finally allow herself to get her hopes up again.

They stopped in front of his classroom and sighed simultaneously. "Well, let's get this over with," Ron gruffly implied. He led the way though the opened doorway. Once the two were in, the Professor had stopped instructing, and everyone's attention was drawn to them. Antonia blushed intensely at the feeling of introducing and interrupting his class, while Ron simply kept his expression nonchalant and uncaring.

"Ahh Antonia, darling, I was beginning to worry. Brought someone with us, I see..."

"Ron Weasley, sir...I'm um, not enrolled into potions...I'm not in it essentially. I'll just go-" Antonia stepped behind him to prevent his attempted leave.

"Nonsense. Any friend of Antonia's is a friend of mine. Get your books out."

"Um, we haven't actually gotten our books yet...I know it is wrong…"

"Not to worry, just get one from the cupboard. As I was saying, I was preparing some concoctions this morning. Any idea what these might be?"

They were both zoning out their best friend's answer to the Professor while they fought over the newer copy of an _Advanced Potion Making _book, which was in far better shape than the other old and worn-out one, that being the only other one left. Ron had won their struggle.

They were to make Felix Felicis, or otherwise known as a 'liquid luck' potion. They had clear instructions in their books for reference, but they had been informed that very few have actually concocted a brew sufficient enough for the prize of one vial of perfectly made liquid luck.

Antonia opened her book to notice that every page was covered in notes. Inked side-descriptions were prevalent on every page she turned, and even the page she needed to use for instructions. The word 'Cut' was circled with a line to the side of the page that told her to instead _crush _with a blade, for it would release the juices better. It seemed to work as well, for she was easily able to squeeze the Sopophorous bean's contents into her brew, while the others seemed to struggle to get it right. Even Hermione, the potions genius, was befuddled at Antonia's ability to make the first instruction look so simple.

"How did you do that?"

"Crush, don't cut."

"_No_, the instructions specifically say to _cut_," she replied almost hotly.

"Well, not mine, lovely."

As the hour went on Antonia continued to follow the side-notes rather than the book's text, and she was getting along fantastically, contrary to her fellow classmates.

Towards the end of class, her instructor dropped a single leaf into her brew, and it proved satisfactory to her Professor. "Merlin's beard. It's perfect!"

Hermione, with hair as large as 1970's Donna Summer, looked over at her friend in pure amazement. Antonia shrugged in return.

"So perfect, I think one drop would kill us all! Here we are then, as promised. One vial of Felix Felicis. Congratulations." He leaned in closer and warned "Use it _well_."

Honored, she took her prize into her palm proudly. She was even able to hold back from giving a damn that Draco was in this class, and God knew he was probably staring her down for the entire hour.

…

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

The small vial that had been loosely toyed with in her hand was snatched out of her palm and waved almost ostentatiously in her face.

"How did you earn this? What did your textbook state contrary to ours?" Hermione demanded. Antonia knew she was flustered not because she didn't win the concoction, but because she was unable to successfully conjure up _the _concoction. She felt dumbfounded, and Antonia understood damn well that her muggle born friend did not cope well with being wronged. She was the brightest girl in their year, after all.

She stopped by the staircase leading to the third floor and shrugged unceremoniously. "I don't know...I just paid attention to all the little side-notes rather than the actual print-"

"Here. May I see it?"

How could the young redhead decline such persistence? She handed her the aged tome without a second thought to cross her mind. She watched her skim through the pages, eyebrows flickering up and down and lip thinning schemingly on occasion.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Antonia declared "It says it's the property of the 'Half-Blood Prince' behind the cover. Any idea of who that may be?"

Hermione placed the book back into Antonia's right palm and went on to shrug, something she hated doing. "I-I'm not sure."

They stepped onto the freshly adjusted staircase and began to ascend. While Hermione was feeling extraordinarily iffy about this situation, Antonia rather valued her worthy assistance. This textbook was her key to pure success in the school year to come.

* * *

_Reminisce: Fall of 1994_

She had never been so paranoid in her life. Why her? Why was she _randomly _chosen to partake in the dangerous and deadly challenge, that she'd have never even pondered signing up for? Not to mention she was three years underage according to the guidelines.

_'Like I'd go for a wild competition such as the Triwizard Tournament! I can hardly control a damn broomstick for Christ's sake!'_

She mustered this loudly to herself whilst angrily kicking a mid-sized stone across the lawn just outside the castle's walls. She was alone, and she wanted to be. She had just passed a group of students donning derogatory badges that indicated how much she 'stunk'. Then to add to her fuming state of mind, she heard a familiar chipper voice consumed with shrill and irritating chagrin.

"Why so _tense_, Potter?"

She froze in her tracks and crooked her neck to her left to see her haughty rival resting up in the crevice of a tree, his legs dangling pretentiously from off the side and an annoying smirk presented on his lips. She watched as he leapt down from his seat just a few feet above ground level. He took a few steps forward and his cronies tagged along behind.

"My father and I have a bet, ya see. I don't think you're gonna last ten minutes in this tournament."

She grimaced intensely and absentmindedly clenched her fists. He just _had_ to begin with the patronizing. She felt goosebumps spring up on her arms and the little hairs on the back on her neck went erect with frigid irritation.

"She disagrees. She thinks she might last _five_!"

She stormed for him with that remark.

"I don't give a shit what your father thinks of me, Draco!" she rammed her outward palms into his chest roughly, actually managing to knock a light gust of wind out of him.

"He's vile, and he's fucking _sick_ at heart." She leaned in closer, purposefully taunting him with her proximity of their mouths. "And you're just as pathetic."

He put on a disgruntled expression as if truly hurt by her comeback. He barred his teeth as she aggressively turned on her heels, rushing away. He drew his wand with a narrowed stare and grungy focus on her and her only.

He took aim, but was halted by the new one-eyed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Moody Mad-Eye. In an instant, he was transfigured into his animagus, a ferret. He was then promptly shoved down into his large friend's pants.

Antonia had gotten to genuinely smile for the first time in a while that day.

…

She was astounded with how well she'd done in her first task with the dragons. She'd been given the Hungarian Horntail. Oh, how many nerves in that young adolescents body must have been shot that afternoon. Her every fibre was aflame with adrenaline, and all she could think about was surviving somehow. A broomstick had granted her such luck, and after a strenuous wild dragon chase around the school's grounds, she had achieved her egg-formed prize.

All the other tasks thereafter were no simpler, and the death of her eventual friend Cedric Diggory had proven much for her to handle, (she was only fourteen, after all) and she had to first-handedly witness the truth behind Mad-Eye's actuality, in the form of an imposter.

She had nightmares all the rest of that summer.

* * *

_A/N: I'd like to thank Guest for the lovely review :) Thanks to the people following and favorite(ing) the story, it's truly inspiring. _

_[Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, settings, material, elements, and so on. All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.]_

_Have a great Friday! Until next week =)_


	4. Just What She Needed

****Strong sexual content in this chapter**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Just What She Needed**

_Reminisce: Late summer of 1995_

_"It's just too hot today. Temperatures are up into the mid-nineties, and are possibly headed into the hundreds by tomorrow."_

Antonia observed a mother calling after her young son from the playset while she herself sat alone on a free swing that day in early August. She had just recently turned fifteen. Nowadays, she preferred spending time with just herself. She was lost in a state of perpetual sadness at the murder of Cedric. She had never been too close to him, though they had developed a bond of sorts during her fourth year while reluctantly taking part in the Triwizard tasks.

Solitude eased her paranoia and allowed her to sort things out for herself. This was what she needed. She just needed to think. To consider circumstances on her own, surrounded by nothing more than each swing to her side, the gravel below her dragging feet and the delightfully soothing sound of birds singing out in the distance.

She did not want to see her cousin Dudley.

"Beat up another child, lard-arse?" Antonia mocked upon hearing laughter emanate from a short distance before her.

Her large and dim-witted cousin retorted with "This one _deserved _it."

She scoffed harshly. "Five to one? That sound fair to you?" she challenged.

Keeping his blank, stupid face, he protested "Least I'm not moaning in my sleep every night. Least I'm not afraid of my pillow."

Immature guffaws ensued at his poor remark. Antonia remained unfazed by his idiocy. She shrugged and drew her stare downcast to a more welcoming view of the dirt ground supporting her flat-shoed size seven feet.

"OH! Don't kill Cedric! Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?"

"Cram it."

"She's going to kill me, mum! Where is your mum, Potter?"

Antonia refused to look up at him. She fought to ignore her clenched fists resting shakingly at her sides, ready to punch away at that fat, ruddy face of his.

"She dead?"

The giggles increased in volume.

"IS SHE DEAD?!"

It was particularly the way he laughed out loud while mockingly roaring that last cruelly rhetorical inquiry that got the feisty young redheaded girl up to her feet and in his face in seconds, her wand pressed firmly and threateningly to his double chin.

"Say it again, you lethargic, obese, bastard hog!"

He shoved her roughly to the gravel. Her skirt had risen above her waist following the stumble, revealing her light pink undies to the five adolescent boys to see lucidly.

She had dropped her wand during the fall, and was now livid with pure detestement for the group of illiterate dummies. Her face went tomato-red at the realization of her fabric undergarments being on well-display. She went even more burgundy at the comment that one of the blond moron's had to give right then.

"Ya should fuck 'er, Duds. Teach the little bitch a lesson."

"I can't fuck my _cousin_, you twat."

She yanked her skirt down to cover up her shame and immediately retracted her loose wand. Once it was aimed directly at the cousin's face from her position on the ground below, the sky began to darken immensely. A heap of thick clouds rolled in blocking every inch of sunlight that was just shining brightly down on them moments earlier. Gusts of strong wind blew in and all around the gang and pieces of newspaper and empty soda bottles circled them as the flurry picked up pace.

"Wha- what are you doing?" he stammered nervously.

"_I'm_ not doing anything."

Once the two were alone out in the middle of the fielded area, the sky went on to darken even more, and the murky clouds above them seemed to swirl around slightly, forming a gyre. Rain started pouring down on them suddenly and scornfully, forcing them to escape the playground and hightail the exiting dirt pathway.

The two became soaked fast as they sprinted down the narrow road. They panted simultaneously as they entered a tunnel with walls smothered in graffiti and flooring littered with cigarettes. A row of lights lining the interior walls were flickering, and a pool of fresh precipitation could be seen pooling around the entrance on the other side of the sheltered section.

Suddenly, Antonia felt long and rough fingers wrap around her neck and press her aggressively into the cement wall behind her. She was lifted off of her feet and into the air by what was undoubtedly a Dementor. She struggled to breath properly regarding her clenched throat.

With the little remaining sake she still held for her cousin along with her profuse fear, she mustered "Dudley, run!"

And that he did without a second thought. He was trotting down the slick pavement directly after her request, only to slip and slide down towards the tunnel's other opening to become faced with another Dementor.

Antonia struggled tremendously to breath. Her oxygen was being cut-off largely by her ghoulish captor. Sure enough, remnants of her soul began to cascade out from her parted lips. She was barely able to manage grabbing her wand to fend off the attacker. Once she succeeded with doing so, she was quick to use the "Expecto Patronum!" spell on him, lighting up the space around her and driving out the Dementor, doing the same for her victimized cousin.

Heavy intakes of air took up a long minute of their time. Standing at the far end of the tunnel was a familiar woman dressed in formal clothing holding a large handbag and sporting a large feathery hat atop her head.

"Mrs. Figg?"

* * *

She snapped out of her nostalgic trance and returned her focus to her current situation. She was due on the sixth floor for her Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Snape.

He, since her very first day attending this school, had always made her feel uneasy. Over the last five years he had paid no heed to her whatsoever, minus a few berating statements directed her way from time to time. The only real attention she'd ever received from him were those hard stares he'd give her during those prior potions classes she'd had with him. He seemed to be particularly fascinated with her eyes that strongly resembled her mother's. She had been told this by many since her first year, including the Head of Slytherin. She was shocked to know that he knew her mother, and it even bothered her to a point. Had he picked on her during his schooling at Hogwarts? Or were they close? Friends, or, _heaven forbid_, something more?

She had never even thought about asking him said status. Personally, she really didn't want to know anyways. Perhaps she was better off remaining oblivious to such an acknowledgement. Right now, she had to prepare herself for what was bound to be a stressful hour with her most stern and condescending teacher.

…

"Turn to page two hundred and fifty eight."

Audible page flipping sounded throughout the large and eerie classroom located in the dungeons. The sixth years were frantic to get to that specific page instantly, for their scholar was and had always been far from patient.

Antonia scanned the room around her, identifying students she knew well and didn't. She spotted one of her close friend's, Neville Longbottom, sitting across the room by a trio of Ravenclaws, chewing apprehensively on his bottom lip and quaveringly turning the pages of his textbook. She felt the urge to rise from her assigned seat and join her pal across the class, but wisely decided against it.

She silently read the chapter's title 'Resisting the Imperius Curse'. She recalled using preventable tactics the year earlier with her DA group. Her thoughts were drawn to what occurred at the Ministry. The attack. Her and her friend's lives having been at stake. The crystal ball. The prophecy.

Sirius' death.

Her eyes welled up with tears at the eidetic memory of that night last spring. The loss of her godfather was still tearing her apart. She fought to end hot tears from flowing down her ample cheek as the Professor corned her table.

"Now, this year you all shall learn that your defenses must be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo." He stopped there and glared at the young auburn-haired woman seated near him. Dead quiet wafted in the drafty air for a few moments before the thirty-something Prof continued on.

Antonia felt disconcert at the thought of him having paused to look her over. It wouldn't have been the first time. She knew those dark glints of his enjoyed spending their time on her figure. She only prayed that he wasn't _sexually _attracted to her, and that the reason for his constant staring was for..._other _reasons. Yet, those 'reasons' would likely be inexcusable nonetheless.

She felt her shoulders relax and the tightness in her chest ease once he was across the room, now harshly calling on Neville to read the first few paragraphs of the chapter aloud. She continuously glanced at the clock mounted high on the bricked wall to see how much more time she had to spend in this dreadful class for the day. Her stomach churned at the fifty-four minutes she had to remain in her rickety stool. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be called on to read for the class.

…

She left class begrudgedly at the acknowledgement of just how much studying she was going to be doing that night for the quiz she was going to be having the following day. At least she was paying attention during the hour, even learning a thing or two about self-defense by means of magic.

She descended the stairway alone, now on her way to Charms class with Flitwick. She waved at Neville who passed right on by her down the flight, seeming nervous and in a hurry. She supposed that the Professor may have upset him a tad too much for their first day, for he'd never cared for the brunet, herbology-loving Gryffindor much throughout the years, for unidentifiable reasons.

That night she wrote in her diary once her roommates, Hermione, the Patil twins and Lavender Brown were sound asleep. She wrote underneath her sheets lighting up her tented area with a simple lumos spell.

'_2 September 1996_

_I have been feeling overwhelmed lately, probably due to Sirius' death, but maybe there is something more I should be wary about. I have my suspicions that Draco is more than the usual prick he has been since first year. I believe that he is now a Death Eater. Yes, it's a daring and even dangerous assumption, I know, and I obviously cannot go to Dumbledore with my theory just yet. I need to gather more evidence before I accuse, though, the tables have been turned already, and I doubt I need to see much more before I know for sure that the prat is truly and most definitely working for Voldemort. _

_At the same time, I need to watch myself. After what happened last night on the Express..I just cannot allow _**_that _**_to happen again. I saw little of him today, for he is only in my potions class with me straight away in the morning. I plan on uncovering his common whereabouts so I can easily keep an eye on him, and get the proper proof that I'll need before pointing any fingers. _

_Oh, I know damn well what he's up to, however. It's only rational. His father is one, so why wouldn't he take on the deed as well? Perhaps he is being forced into this..or maybe he just wants to murder because he has enough pure dick in him to do such unspeakable acts. It wouldn't amaze me. No, I know he's not a kind person. Never has been and never will be. From the day I refused to shake his hand on the first of September just five years ago, to his alcohol-drenched tongue swimming around harrassingly in my own mouth._

_Excuse me while I go vomit._

_ ~Antonia' _

With that, she closed her journal and placed it into the bottom drawer of her dresser. Hopefully she would manage to get some decent shut-eye tonight.

* * *

Flat on her back she laid while drifted into a heavy stupor. The room was dimly lit with the only luminescence coming from the moonlight that shone through the window aside the sleeping girl, the curtains swept aside and the ajar opening allowing a light cool breeze to break into the room.

At the end of the bed, a sudden weight sunk down into the mattress. A figure slipped underneath the thin ruby comforter and gradually crawled further up the mattress, then onto the unconscious girl, pinning her down as He slid up her body. She came to, groggy and confused for a moment before becoming consumed with terror and horrific realization. She was about to let out a bloodcurdling scream but was not allowed a peep once a 10 inch Hawthorn wood wand was shoved almost piercingly against her chin.

She heard a low voice grumble "_Not a word_." She began to pant furiously as she felt long and cold fingers trace up her thighs from beneath the blanket. She squirmed madly as her nightgown was being slid up her waist to rest above her panty line. She whimpered silently while continuing to skirmish for freedom. She winced and barely managed to stifle a yelp when the weapon against her chin was thrust forcefully against her. "_Don't fucking move_" the voice warned, forcing her to obey.

She became nerve wracked to the point of coming close to physical sickness when those long and freezing fingers dipped into the waistband of her panties and dragged them down past her knees and completely off her ankles. She felt incredibly enervated and nauseous now, and her face had never felt more on fire. She silently begged and pleaded for her captor to cease what he was about to do, and availed not. She had no choice but to endure the hot and quickly paced breathing she felt on her bare nether parts, as well as the familiar feel of a tongue, penetrating the area where not even her own hands had travelled many times.

She writhed wildly in her place while forcibly being assaulted in an explicitly sexual manner. Cruel throaty laughter could be heard in response to her obvious distaste as He slithered up her body, sliding her sheer nightgown up her body in the process. Hard and greedy kisses trailed along her belly then onto her breastbone. Her nightie was swiftly yanked upwards to unveil her braless breasts for her assaulter to fool with. The large weight over her didn't distract her as much as the protruding pressure she felt between her legs. She could do nothing to retaliate as He snaked out of his own pants and underwear to tease her untouched womanhood with his own. She relentlessly begged the man to put an end to his pervasive enactment while He in turn merely ignored her pleas and sucked away at the girl's freed tits.

Immense stinging proceeded within her sex, allowing her virginity to fade away one thrust at a time. Her cleavage and chest were attacked with ravenous, lustful lovebites and licks. Those now warm and slim fingers found themselves hoisting her body closer to his own from underneath her body. Her head was nearly slamming the bed's headboard at the velocity of her attacker's fierce propelling. Her back tingled in response to His fingernails scraping against her upper back and shoulders as He pleasured himself.

It wasn't until she could've sworn that she heard the wand fall to the wooden floor before she decided to let out a piercing screech.

The next thing she knew she was feeling her insides flip as she fell over the edge of her bed to crash onto the floor. Her sheets were entangled around her waist, thereby coming down with her. She had banged her head on the edge of her dresser during the fall, resulting in major fuzziness and sharp pain to emerge throughout the back of her skull.

A lamp was turned on from across the room next to Hermione's bed. Antonia could merely lay where she was on the floor and stare in outrageous bafflement as her roommates stared scrutinizingly at her in pure obfuscation.

"What the bloody fuck happened?!" blurted Lavender from her upward position in her bed. Antonia closed her eyes and slowly began to steady her breathing. Hermione approached her and knelt down to the floor to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Just a nightmare, I presume?" she asked gently.

She met her gaze and nodded sheepishly. "I-I'm so sorry. It was just...so vivid. It-it seemed so real, I-"

"No, it's alright, Antonia. Don't you worry."

Antonia sighed heavily and brought herself to her feet with a stumble. She felt lightheaded from the aggressive fall and needed to get some fresh air. She rubbed the back of her head and announced "I'm okay. I'll just, um, go out into the common room for a while...get some water and collect my thoughts."

She made her way to the door, only to be stopped by her concerned friend. "Would you like me to join you?"

She turned and quickly told her "No, no thank you, Hermione. I just need to be alone right now.."

She nodded understandingly and headed back to her own bed. Halfway out the door, Antonia heard Lavender scoff and sneer "What a lightweight," while the Patil twins chortled briefly in turn.

Before she left, she grabbed her bathrobe from the end of her unkempt bed and put it on. Once out in the cool and drafty hall, she wrapped the satin garment more securely around her frame. She fought to rid the remaining pieces of that gruesome dream that brutishly played in her mind. She had never felt so violated in her life.

She plopped herself down onto the couch in the middle of the common room. She withdrew her wand and lit the fireplace to give the room light as well as life. She stared blankly at the flame and contemplated what had just happened. Relief coursed through her at the fact that what she'd just 'experienced' was a petty dream; a mere result of hardcore R.E.M. Yet, it seemed so authentic, both visually and physically. And though it was nothing real, it still bothered the daylights out of her.

Why on earth was she having such dreams? And especially about…

Draco.

She never saw his face in the dream, but she knew it was him. She recognized the feel of his body over her from...unfortunate prior experience. She also identified that shrill and as usual uppity voice of his through his few muttered threats he'd given her.

As the minutes ticked on, she slowly began to feel more at ease. She knew she couldn't allow herself to fall back asleep, however. Not tonight. Not after that. She rose from her lain position on the plump red sofa and headed for the storage cupboards. In a more discreet one behind a tall bottle of olive oil and a box of graham crackers was a small stash of her brought alcoholic beverages. Yes, she'd broken a good chunk of the school's rules and brought some of her own drinks.

Over the summer, she had developed...well, a habit of sorts. She took up underage drinking shortly after the murder of her godfather. She would try to refrain from doing it too often, limiting herself to no more than five glasses a week, for she knew that developing a thirst for such beverages would only result in havoc. The last thing she needed was a diagnosis of alcoholism.

Right now, she needed a shot or two of her muggle drink, chianti. She poured herself a small dose of the tangy liquid and gulped it all down in one swallow. She then went for numero two.

After a regretful six shots later, she chastised herself roughly and returned her booze to its rightful and hidden place, then trudged back to the sofa to collapse into the thick cushions and eventually drift back into sleep.

…

Sunlight filled the room that morning while the redhead laid sprawled out on the couch in the Gryffindor's common room. She groggily shifted in her place and stretched out her limbs to rid any nightly kinks and stiff muscles that could've settled in during her rest. She opened her eyes to see a lit room. The paintings on the wall were now clear and the chandelier above her looked stunning in the sunlight.

She panicked slightly upon hearing footsteps enter the room. She wasn't willing to be seen in such a sluggish manner, with her disheveled night clothing and uncombed hair. She hastily peered over the armrest of the couch to see someone she didn't have to fret over one bit.

"Oh, hello Neville," she chimed from her lazy position on the couch. The tall young man donning a red robe, striped pajamas and blue slippers jumped slightly, then smirked abashedly and sweetly mumbled "Antonia. I didn't see you there."

"Sorry to startle you, my friend," she teased in turn, now making Neville's face go light pink at the awkwardness.

"Startle? I think not," he laughed. "So, what brings you out here so early?"

She ran her right hand through her slick tresses while mumbling "I had a bad dream last night, so I came out here to, um..get a little fresh air, I suppose."

"Makes sense. I can't tell you how many times I've had to do that myself over the years. In fact, my last occurrence was just last May when I dreamt of...em, nevermind."

Antonia's eyes widened with curiosity. "Tell me. I won't judge you, Neville. Come on."

"Well, okay. Don't tell anyone this, but, I dreamt that Professor Snape had me under the influence of the Cruciatus curse while sporting my grandmother's attire. It was rather dreadful. He was even wearing her purple lipstick."

Antonia forced herself to swallow her pride and abstain a bout of laughter. She empathetically told him "That sounds rather awful, indeed."

Antonia enjoyed his presence, but not so much the other's who were making their way in. She was hardly dressed properly enough to go out and get _mail_. She hurriedly told Neville that she'd see him later and rushed back to her dorm.

The girls were just now awakening and pulling themselves out from under their sheets. Antonia removed her robe and allowed it to thud to the floor while she headed for her dresser. She retrieved a fresh pair of underwear and a bra, then obtained her school attire and headed into the bathroom to quickly shower.

…

"Are you going to tell me about your dream or not?"

Hermione was being awful persistent with not only that, but also Antonia's usage of her _Advanced Potions_ book. Concern displayed itself beautifully on her friend's face, and Antonia's wasn't too happy about it.

"I already told you. I was raped."

"Well...by whom?"

"I don't know. Just drop it. It's no big deal."

Her acquaintance's expression turned to one of disappointment. "Alright. I just want to know that you're okay now."

"I am."

"Good..good, that's good."

The two continued down the corridor towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Turning the corner into the entrance of the eating area, Antonia ran right into a hard chest. The crash had caused her to drop her books and other equipment as well as the person before her to do the same.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I should have seen where I was-"

She froze upon realizing that she had just rammed into Draco. Oh, what luck. This was just what she needed. _Just what she needed_.

"Watch where you're going you filthy little bitch," he spat with arrogance that not even Salazar himself could muster up.

He finished up with "That goes for you too, mudblood."

"Wanker off, you pile of horse manure!" Hermione protested. She then grabbed Antonia's wrist and sped past the pureblooded son of a bitch, yanking her along. Antonia was wholeheartedly fuming just as much as her friend, yet she couldn't find it in her at that moment to give him some of her own dirt. Damn, it was that dream. It was now messing with her confidence. Her bold ego.

Good fucking Lord.

She felt a sense of powerful defeat upon taking a seat next to Ginny. Why, she should have_ tackled_ him back there, not kept silent like some self-conscious Hufflepuff first year!

She sighed and decided to just try and move past it. Perhaps, if and when the time was right, she could find another way to get back at him. For what he did to her._ Twice_, too. She had to level up to the deliberate and cruel assault on the train, and for the nasty dream she was forced to endure all due to his traumatizing subconscious inflictions.

Though, she could suppose that just the one 'assault' was really his fault. Yet, she was so fired up about both the harassments that she could easily blame the arse for harming her in more than that one way.

She picked away at her plate of scrambled eggs and didn't even bother nibbling on her slice of toast spread with her favorite strawberry jam. Her stomach felt knotted up from leftover stress from both last night's vivid slumber pictures and that real-life run-in with her second-to top enemy. She was visibly shaking all over, and she could feel a lump forming in the back of her throat. She lay her fork down and rested her head in her left hand and closed her eyes. Her friends seemed to take concern at this.

"Antonia, are you feeling alright?" asked Ginny, her tone full of consternation.

At that, she rose from her inert position and nodded. "I just feel a little tired is all. I'm fine, though."

It was then when her focus was drawn across the room towards the Slytherin's table. Her eyes landed on a rising Draco Malfoy. She watched with meticulous eyes as he walked off in the other direction towards the entrance. Her nosiness was fast getting the best of her, and she couldn't bear just remaining where she was, despite her better judgements.

Overlooking her potential safety, she slipped out of her seat and proclaimed "I-I need to use the lavatory. I'll see you all later."

She chose not to wait for her friends' replies, and instead rushed out of the Great Hall to try and catch up with the mysterious young man who was bound to be up to no good.

* * *

A/N: Thank you _guest_ and _RachaelEwe_ for reviewing :) I appreciate the constructive feedback.

_Disclaimer: All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros._

I'd like to thank my readers. What will our protagonist do_ if_ and _when_ she catches the mysterious blond prowler? Next week's update shall reveal the answer! Have a lovely weekend, dear readers :)

-JLM


	5. What She Wanted

_*Some coarse language_

* * *

**Chapter Five: What She Wanted**

She caught a glimpse of that neatly-parted platinum hair from just outside of the Great Hall. He was turning the corner on her left, and he was moving rigorously. She had to scamper down the hall quickly in order to catch up with him, while remaining unnoticed as well. She could always go for being invisible to his kind, for all they had to comment was pure insultery at the sight of people like her.

She nearly crashed into a group of fifth years upon turning the corner with blinding rapidity. By the time she was halfway down this hall, he was already out of her sight again onto the next. While striding the lengthy corridors she began to contemplate why she was even bothering. She should have just stopped there and went back with a shrug and no damns given. Then again, he was suspect to very illegal activity, and if Antonia were to stalk him just as she had intended to since a couple days before, then she would unlock the secrets she needed to prove him guilty.

So, perhaps it was only necessary to follow him every which way and take note of every little thing he did. Anything to verify his loyalty to You-Know-Who. Judging the way he seemed to be in an extreme hurry, Antonia could guess that he was up to some naughty business right at that moment, and with that thought in mind, she pushed herself to pick up her pace and not even think about losing sight of him, even for a second.

However, once she had faced her next hallway she had suddenly lost sight of him. There was no way he could've vanished over the next corner_ that fast_. She had been not fifty steps behind him this entire time. She hinted that he must have walked into one of the classrooms, and began to peer into each door she passed, even turning the knobs of unlocked closed doors to look in. He hadn't been seen in any.

She groaned in frustration. _Now_ how was she going to see what the hell he's up to? She ran shaky fingers through her hair and glanced upwards at the clock mounted high on the wall. It was 7:55, indicating that she had a good hour to track down the ferret before her first class was to begin.

She tore up hall after hall into a ransacked attempt to now purposefully run into Draco, though not literally, but from a large distance between them. Forty minutes ticked on, and she had failed to see him. With less than twenty minutes to spare before she was due in potions class, she decided to give up and study in the library for that quiz she was to have in Snape's class in second period.

Antonia could hardly focus on her study material however, for her thoughts were glued obsessively to Malfoy's whereabouts. Could he have apparated onto a different floor? That seemed to be the only reasonable explanation for his sudden disappearance.

Whatever he did, she had to force herself to let it go. She wanted to make a grand impression in her DADA class this year, and that would be a sure challenge with Severus being the one to instruct the course.

Maybe it would even be close to impossible.

…

Draco was eight minutes late to class that morning.

That was the first thing Antonia noticed. At least Professor Slughorn let him off the hook with a too-fair warning to "Come in a little earlier next time."

Antonia saw this as the humble man's excuse to hold back from taking any points from his House, for they were on the mere second day.

That morning they were reading over a chapter on the perfect brew of an Alihotsy Draught potion. They were not to begin a brew of this potion until the next class session. Instead of reading along with the Professor on the concoction that "Induces chronic hysteria", she chose to look over what she needed to know about preventative measures against dark forces. With all she'd been through over the last five years, Antonia felt that she already knew everything there was to know. She could go as far as writing up a book on said subject. Still, in order to ensure a high grade on this foreshadowed difficult quiz, she needed to really nail the contents into her head, and keep them in place.

All that hour she could've sworn that she felt a certain blond's stare focused on her and her only. However, she refused to lift her head from her textbook. She may have just been paranoid, but she could have sworn that she felt his frustration waft from across the room. From what? Her refusal to look back over at him? She was pretending that she didn't even notice him.

She wasn't going to give him what he wanted. She was going to get what she wanted. And that was to find out all she could about who he really was and what he was doing while going completely unnoticed.

With just fifteen seconds to go before their bell was to ring, Antonia glanced up to see her rival's gray hues still locked on her. It appeared that her assumptions were correct. Apparently, he had been gawking her down for the whole of the hour. The cocky moron.

Irritated by his carefree and domineering attitude, she bluntly raised her middle finger directly his way, while managing to go unseen by the surrounding students. She smirked whimsically at seeing his wide, venom-filled and shocked eyes at the short-lived gesture.

The students piled out of the class once the bell sounded. Antonia was one of the final to exit along with Ron and Hermione. Hermione had to head off to the library to pick up a pre-ordered book before she headed off to Advanced Arithmancy, and Ron's class was far-off on the other side of the school, so he had to get running along quickly, leaving Antonia alone to head for her next class.

The dungeons were hoarded with students of all years. The busyness of the halls would make it nearly impossible for anyone to detect something askew that could happen at any given moment. A moment like this one.

Antonia was walking along the cemented walling while just around the corner from Snape's class. She was just about to pass the half-open door to her right, but something halted her from doing so. She felt someone ram into her from her left side, knocking her roughly into the small room, or space, really. She hit the back wall without even the slightest amount of grace, dropping her bag and yelping out as it happened. She heard the door slam shut, leaving the space around her pitch black and very confined.

"What the fu-"

She was slapped by a large hand across her left cheek. Then she felt a body press firmly against hers, slamming her into the cool wall behind her. Her head whacked against one of the more bulky stones that stuck out, causing a large quantity of pain to surge through her head. She gasped out quickly before the same hand that smacked her across the face found a place on her neck just below her chin to grip tenaciously, nearly choking her.

"What do ya think you were doing back in there, Potter? Think you can freely point that ugly little finger of yours to my face, do you?"

"Malfoy-"

He tightened his grip on her throat, making her squirm more and whimper, though not loudly enough to attract the attention of outside passersby. She felt helpless at this moment. Just like in her dream. The circumstances were certainly similar, though they still varied in one major way, a way that she could never allow to happen.

"Little fucking wench. That's what you are. Yeah. Pathetic woman. Forgets who is _superior_. Thinks she is better than me. Doesn't realize how wrong she is."

"L-let me go-"

His other hand went for a handful of hair from her scalp and yanked coercively. Had it not been for the Silencing charm Draco put on their small space, someone would have surely heard the horrific scream she let out.

He rhythmically pulled away at her hair while calling her every filthy swear in the book. She could feel tears streaming down her face while he violated her. She fought against him with all her strength, though she was weak that morning to begin with. Had she known that this would be the result to her finger raising then she would have strongly considered chopping off both of them via blade to prevent committing such a risky act.

She could feel her feet lift from their place on the floor. Their proximity was only becoming more definite. He held her against the wall, both his hands now grasped at her waist, holding her up in her place. She could tell that he was starting to struggle with keeping her still, and she enjoyed that. She wasn't going to make any of this easy for him.

In her ear, he growled "You know what I thought about all hour, _Antonia_? I fantasized about stripping you bare and screwing your brains out right in here."

"S-stop it-"

"I became hard at the thought of your tits in my mouth, you know. You may not have been much to look at a few years ago, but fucking Merlin, have you developed into something pleasantly fuckable-"

"Enough! Sick pervert! Goddamn bully! Stupid, pratty cock! You're _not_ superior of anyone you confused Daddy's boy! Oh, and about your _blessed_ father, how is he holding up in prison at the moment?"

This had derived his focus. "Don't you dare fucking speak of my father-"

"He's a _pretty_ man I must admit, Draco. I can assume that he's receiving all kinds of attention from the other grisly inmates there in Azkaban. I can't imagine that his lovely and toned backside _doesn't_ get a dick or two shoved into it during their _weekly_ showers-"

"Filthy cunt!"

He threw her down to the ground and kicked her roughly on the side. She winced and began to sob uncontrollably while backing as far she possibly could into the corner. He left her with one more sharp slap across her already throbbing cheek before leaving her be with the slamming of the closet door.

She spent an unsure amount of time after his departure crying in fetal position on the floor. She was surrounded by darkness and a faint smell of old textbooks, spice and apples mocked her nostrils. Would things only become worse from here on out? She already felt so broken.

Antonia admittedly wasn't too shocked at the motherfucker's revealment. She had sensed his unhealthy feelings for her since around fourth year. She recalled one remark he made towards her in particular that year during the Yule Ball.

…

_Reminisce: December of 1994_

"Have you brought the butterbeer?"

"Oh, no. Sorry, I forgot."

"Ronald! Ugh...ah well. I'll just have to settle for some pumpkin juice...with just a _touch_ of sherry, that is," giggled the Triwizard competitor, honoring her new sense of rebellion.

"I wouldn't bother, Toni. You'll probably get caught."

"Not if I'm careful."

She crookedly stood from her seat on the cool cemented fifth step leading upstairs. She adjusted her velvety black silk V-necked dress that flowed elegantly at her ankles and loosened up her bun that had been formed on top of her head to allow the strands to fall freely down her shoulders and back.

She swayed in a very womanly manner in her three inch platforms towards the beverage table, having her mind set on a nice half pumpkin juice with half sherry, if she could manage to go unnoticed, that was.

She hummed gleefully as she poured the juice into her glass then cautiously looked around to make sure that no teachers were around to catch her helping herself to a little alcohol. When the coast appeared clear, she went ahead and popped open the available drink and quickly poured away, filling her cup to the brim before placing the cork back in its rightful place.

She took a large and greedy gulp of her mixed drink and shuddered slightly at the unique combo. She generally just preferred her drinks whole, but tonight she had to keep a low profile with exactly what she was consuming, and mixing this particular booze with thick, murky and orange pulp was stellar for disguising the alcohol.

She sipped her glass eloquently as she made her way back towards the stairway, unfortunately managing to jostle right into a mildly hammered Slytherin during the trip. The bump had caused her to spill a few teaspoons of her drink onto the purely black blazer of Draco's. And though it didn't and wouldn't show or stain his attire, he still had himself a little fit.

"Bloody hell! Look at what you did you clumsy bitch!"

Antonia giggled advertently at her little 'mishap', and unapologetically remarked "Oh...oops. Sorry, love."

_Love?_

Draco was addled at her odd word choice, but then quickly figured out that the giddy girl was tipsy. Oh, how he could take advantage of this…

A devilish grin played along his lips. "Drunk, are you? Tsk, tsk, be a shame if I were to inform one of the professors of your underage drinking, wouldn't it?"

He drank in her angst at his given threat, and decided to worsen her circumstances by adding "I see Professor Snape right over there with Karkaroff. Oh, and he's leaving...I best go n' get him before he gets the chance to-"

"No! No, Malfoy...Please, just, just leave me be. I'm sorry, alright? Your damn shirt isn't ruined anyways, you dolt."

"Mm...not enjoying that language, Potter. Got a bit of a mouth on you tonight, eh? I'll let it slip as you being too intoxicated to think clearly. In the meantime, I shall let you off the hook if you hand over the remainder of your drink. Capiche?"

She nearly shoved it into his chest, almost spilling even more of the liquid onto his precious coat, though thankfully not. "Yeah, sure. Now, outta my way, dick-face."

She attempted to stray right on past him, but was halted dead in her tracks by his iron grip around her right wrist. His hand was alarmingly cold and his hold was overwhelmingly firm.

"Hey! I gave you the bloody drink, now sod off!"

"I see we've got the cleavage on well-display tonight, don't we?"

Her face went a deep shade of magenta, yet she forced herself to look downwards to confirm his accusation. Sure, her girls were presented more than what would've been allowed for a regular class day, but it wasn't like sternly old _McGonagall_ had said anything to say about it earlier when she spoke with her. She looked appropriate enough. In fact, she looked smashing.

"Keep your eyes _up here_, you twat!" she bit out, directing her pointed index finger in front of her green hues.

"Ooh, embarassed, are we?"

"Merlin, I've been talking to you_ far_ too long. Forget you."

"Agreed." He laid a free hand on her lovely buttox following the reply. "Now beat it."

It took all the will she had to refrain from attacking the haughty prat like a pregnant spider going after a newly arrived fly on her web. She huffed out angrily and stormed off, to join Hermione who was also marching up the stairs seemingly upset, for one reason or another.

* * *

She remained on the floor inside of that dark, compact and stuffy closet for the whole of the hour, right until the bell rang to indicate the end of class. She unwrapped her arms from their hold on her chest-brought knees, wiped her tears away and ignored her aching and throbbing areas as she brought herself to her feet and gathered her bookbag. She departed the closet sniffling and on wobbly, vibrating feet. She knew his blows and kicks would leave bruises, and she didn't have any more time to care. There was nothing Madam Pomfrey could've done in the infirmary but give her perhaps a small dose of an alleviating brew and some healing creams, and as for the assault and abuse she had to endure at His wrath, she could always tell Dumbledore, but he had enough on his hands already, and she didn't really want to give him any more trouble just yet.

Besides, she would be getting back at him soon enough with the evidence that he had fallen gracious towards the Dark Lord. Once she had this dirt on him, she'd call it officially even.

* * *

"Antonia, you're bruising right here."

Ginny's fingers lightly skimmed the left side of her cheekbone where she'd been punched earlier. Antonia had to quickly make up an excuse, so as to not stir up a prolonged war towards the Slytherin's seeker at this hour. The thought of her two best girl friend's hurtling over there to hex the living hell out of the sly prat only gave her a sickening feeling deep within. She only wanted to forget about it anyways.

"I tripped and fell down the last few steps while descending the stairs to the fourth floor after my arithmancy class."

With that returned a set of raised brows and dismayed façades. "Are you feeling alright?" Hermione chipped in with a sympathy-laced tone.

Antonia improvisationally stirred her gravy-glazed mashed potatoes and said "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm okay at the moment, thank you."

Despite the friends' kind contributions directed her way, she couldn't help but feel a tad irritated by it all. She wasn't exactly accustomed to lying to all of them like this, but she had to keep her guard down until she got the facts that she so direly needed.

Yet, it _was_ only the second day into term, so what was the hurry? She had _all year_ to catch the alleged felon in the act. That being the case, she still felt the hankering need to jump out of her seat and follow the boy out of the Great Hall, just as he was doing now.

She disregarded him. She was already acting suspicious enough towards her peers. How odd would it have looked if she _yet again_ opted to excuse herself from dinner? No, she needed to remain where she was, and block-out those persistent thoughts of spying on the enemy.

At least for tonight.

…

"But sir-"

"Take a seat. You are to receive no credit for yesterday's test considering your lack of a proper excuse for your absence."

"I have a note from Madam Pomfrey right here, Professor! I am able to take the quiz at any time-"

"Take. A. Seat."

His grim order forced the young witch to do as she was told without further ado. She could feel her blood boil at his annunciation that he would be taking thirty points from Gryffindor for her unnecessary and discourteous retorting.

He shot daggers her way just a little while longer, really making sure to stare her dead into her irises, as if seeking out her soul. She watched his cloak drift hauntingly at the floor as he stalked off towards the other side of the room for the board. His stare had yet again burned holes into the roots of her mind, and it would surely take hours, or even days, to rid the mental image of his glinted pupils from her thoughts.

While his loathing regards towards her pissed her off to no end, she could only shudder with the other things he did. She could recall many instances where he sent a large and cold chill down her spine, the last incident taking place just last winter during her first Occlumency lesson.

…

_Reminisce: January of 1996_

"There is a connection between the Dark Lord's mind and your own. Whether he is as yet aware of this connection is for the moment...unclear. _Pray_ he remains ignorant."

Antonia felt cold sweat trickle down her back and the little hairs on the back of her neck raise as she watched the Professor unravel a holster containing tools that suggested he could've been a part-time surgeon. She gulped silently at the view of a rather large and pointy scalpel that glistened in the overhead lights of the office. She shivered at the prospect of him using any of those incisive objects on her delicate skin.

"Sir, if h-he is currently mindful of what's going on...will he be able to read my mind?"

"Read it. Control it…" He turned abruptly to face her and denounce "_Unhinge_ it."

He began to take painfully slow steps towards the victimized redheaded girl. "In the past, it was the Dark Lord's pleasure to invade minds of his victims, creating visions designed to _torture_ them into madness. Only after extracting the last _exquisite_ ounce of agony, only would he have them literally begging for death would he finally _kill_ them."

Her breathing fastened once he was right before her, vehemently glaring down at her as he spoke like she was some sort of useless pile of waste. She still felt prickles elongate her entire being as he spoke on darkly.

"Used properly, the power of Occlumency will help shield you from access or influence. In these lessons, I will attempt to penetrate your mind. You will attempt to resist."

Hyperventilation had taken control of her above all else. She felt dizzy and lightheaded from her teacher's venomous instruction. The last person she wanted roaming around in her ponderings was_ this_ man.

With her senses clouded by profuse fear and a drastic rush of adrenaline, she mumbled "Severus-"

"Legilimens!"

She yelped out as he went on to do what was promised. She saw various events that she'd experienced over the years flash right before her eyes. The focus seemed to fall on her friends, crestfallen experiences, her mentors, adults and her enemies.

Including Him.

One memory that struck her in a more negative way was one of the Dark Lord himself from what she'd seen of him on the first of September that year at King's Cross Station. He was donning a black suit and standing amongst the passing people. Her view of him was very brief, yet very traumatizing, still. She was reviewing her more emotional moments. Her prior turmoil was shown to her all again in one vivid and sadistic compilation.

She writhed in her seat and _supposedly_ pleaded out to Snape with under such influence, her frantic state not allowing her to know for sure, but he pressed her on.

"_Concentrate_, Potter. Focus."

...

Christmas with the Weasley's with the gift of seeing her beloved godfather; that was the first portion she got to view.

"This is the Black family tree."

The entire wall was covered in portraits along with names and the dates of birth including the names of their spouses and children were painted on in the form of one large and beautifully branched tree. Antonia's eyes fell on a face that appeared familiar, but not quite distinguishable.

"My deranged cousin," Sirius informed as he took note of her eyes wandering over the attractive woman's face.

Her eyes wandered the wall as Sirius went on about how his parents were pure-blooded bigots. She watched his hand fall on what would have been a picture of himself. It was a charred and burned-in black circle with his name underneath. She saw that this had been done with a few other portraits as well.

"My mother did that after I ran away. Charming woman...I was sixteen."

"Where did you go?"

"Your dad's. I was always working with the Potter's.

He went on to explain that there is light and dark inside of us all. Our decisions define who we are in the end. He fed her these wise words when she admitted that since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, she had been feeling as if his effect over her provoked characteristics that were just as dark and twisted as his. It took Sirius' advice to soothe her feelings of impurity.

"The world isn't spilt into good people and Death Eaters, Antonia. We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are. When all of this is over, we'll be a proper family." She felt a hand land on her shoulder reassuringly.

…

Now she was running down the grassy hill onwards to Hagrid's hut along with Ron and Hermione. She'd just received word that her favorite Keeper of the keys had returned from his 'journey' and was beyond eager to meet up with him. The trio stopped just outside his home and peered into the window to see that he was speaking with the dreadful and overbearing DADA scholar, Dolores Umbridge. They appeared to be arguing, and for good reason. Antonia strongly denied that anyone with a decent heart could have a nice, easygoing and civil conversation with such a vile hag.

They made fast to scat off to the side of the hut once the heavy door opened and closed, out coming the pompous woman smothered in a fluffy fuchsia twin set. They remained ducked for cover until she sprayed her perfume all over the gamekeeper's door and her own short and chubby neck before strutting off back up towards the castle.

"This is top-secret, right?"

The three nodded unanimously in turn at the half-giant. He leaned back and grunted lightly before making a statement. "Dumbledore sent me to parley with the giants."

"Giants?!" Hermione blurted, receiving three 'shh's' back her way. "You've found them?"

"Well, they're not that hard to find to be perfectly honest. They're so big. I just had to convince them to join the cause, but I wasn't the only one who was tryin' to win them over."

"Death Eaters…" Ron mumbled factually.

"Tryin' to persuade them to join You-Know-Who."

"Well, did they?" asked Antonia.

"I gave them Dumbledore's message...S'pose some of them remember that he was friendly to them." He sighed gruffly and tore off a hunk of his hand-held meat and tossed it in front of his hound, Fang. Antonia didn't have to study his face long to determine that he'd been attacked during his mission. There were cut and smears of dried blood and even a few bruises covering the portions of his face that didn't contain facial hair.

"They did this to you?" she asked.

"Not exactly…" He dabbed at his bruised brow bone with the hunk of steak as Fang barked, seeming to want it more than he did. "Go on, have it then."

Thunder filled the silence and wind blew in through the hole in the window, lightly shuffling some strands of hay.

"It's changing out there," Hagrid announced as they all stood from their seats and gazed into the other room, out the window. "There's a storm coming, Antonia. And we best be prepared for when she does."

…

Along with some awkward segments including training sessions with Dumbledore's Army, followed by getting caught by the Inquisitorial Squad and its bitch of a leader then onto a scene of her first kiss that was shared with Anthony Goldstein.

She wanted to die when she realized that her professor had to witness _that_.

Her final memory involved her first confrontation with Hagrid's half-brother, Grawp. It was almost cinematic watching herself and her friends run wildly away from the towering creature. She was just as taken aback watching the giant lift Hermione from the ground like she was a doll for the second time just like the first time in real life.

Once she was placed back down to the woodsy floor, Hermione was handed a loose bicycle's handlebars with a bell attached to it. She tuned it for the giant to hear, getting a roused smile to portray his face.

"He gets his own food and all. It's company he'll be needin' when I'm gone. You will look after 'im, won't you? I'm the only family he's got."

Antonia nodded along with her friends.

…

The sight of her mother and father in the Mirror of Erised had set her mood to a more calm one for the first time in hours. Again, she saw her eleven year old self touching the place where she saw her mother, yearning to feel her hand in her own.

She had almost forgotten that she was not alone.

In between her parents intruded the tall and pale man with a look of death on his face. "Feeling sentimental?" he ridiculed.

She snapped out of her trance with a powerful startle. She was overcome with embarrassment, sorrow and anger. "That's private!" she muttered, hardly able to look him in the eyes at this point.

From his stance a distance away, he complied "Not to me. And not to the Dark Lord either if you do not improve."

She panicked when he rushed for her suddenly. She inched as far back as she could into her seat as he began pouring harsh truths like a broken dam. "Every memory he has access to is a weapon he can use against you. You wouldn't last two seconds if he invades your mind."

She forced herself to blink back the tears that wanted to escape her lids so badly. She needed to show him that she could be strong, not weak. She had to be defiant and just as nonchalant as he was if she was going to make it through this lesson.

"Lean upwards, relax and be sure to _discipline_ your mind."

She nodded curtly, though she had never been more timid on the inside. She gritted her teeth so as to try and stop them from chattering as they were as he raised his wand again and declared another Legilimens spell.

Again, she saw more unsettling recollections flash before her eyes. A close-up of Grawp, Dumbledore escaping the Ministers, training with her DA recruits, the photograph of her parents dancing outdoors around cascading Fall leaves, and a gratuitous embrace with Sirius.

Vessels erupted within her at his comment of how he may have vomited at the sweet sight of the hug. Now perhaps it was Severus who was _unhinging_ her.

"Stop it! Just stop it now!"

She was up from her seat and staggering off towards the window, away from him.

"Is this what you call control?" he jeered.

"I can't do this anymore. I need to leave..I need to rest-"

"The Dark Lord _isn't_ resting!"

While she tried to get around him to bolt for the exit, he cornered her at a table, bumping her right into a few empty flasks and knocking them over. Her heart pounded madly at his uncomfortable closeness to her. It was almost...inappropriate, actually. She decided not to fret over it too much unless his hands went on her body, and at the same time, she couldn't decline any assumptions that he just may go ahead and do that in any given moment.

She was fifteen, yes, awful young to be stirring up lustful feelings from a thirty-five year old man, certainly; however, she admittedly was more mature than other girls her age, both physically and mentally. She stood at a womanly 5'5 and had finely-placed curves with absolutely no more traces of leftover baby fat left. She was slender and had a jawline that would've made muggle celebrity, _Audrey Hepburn_, jealous.

On top of that, she had been falling head-over-heels for Remus Lupin for quite some time, wrong as it may have been. Thankfully, he remained oblivious to her feelings towards him. He was seeing Nymphadora Tonks at that time, anyways, so Antonia reckoned that her feelings for him would have to remain long-unrequited.

In the meantime, she and her Professor were within angsty vicinity, and it was unnerving her terribly. After a few perturbing seconds ticked on, the cloaked scholar stood back, though just a smidgen.

"Two-of-a-kind, sentimental children forever whining about how bitterly unfair your lives have been. Well, it may have escaped your notice, but _life_ isn't fair. Your blessed father knew that, in fact, he frequently _saw_ to it!"

She looked him squarely in the eyes, frightened as she was, and remarked "M-my father was a great man."

"Your father was a swine!"

His hand went for her forearm and tightened stridently. How dare he? He was bypassing her comfort-zone by far now, and was _almost_ close enough to fairly suggest that he was right up against her. It was her turn to be assertive. What would he do anyways? Hit her? She doubted that he actually would, but if he did, then—then she could always report it to the Headmaster, of course!

With a sudden streak of boldness, she mustered "You're the swine, Severus. Just imagine what my mother would think of you right now-" She glanced down to signify her referral, "_Holding me_ like this, yelling at me as if I have actually done something wrong-"

"Insolent little bitch."

She almost couldn't believe her ears. Had he really just said that? She'd heard many insults disguised as critical comments come from that mouth of his directed to her ears over the last four years, but never such an inimical remark as such.

Her face softened in spite of bewilderment. Her eyes widened and dared to brim tears. "What?"

She felt her wrist throb from his hold on her. Letting go didn't seem to be his first priority, but she prayed that at was at least on his list of considerations.

He smirked diabolically and groaned "I see that blasted father of yours in you. The only subtle hint of your lovely mother I can deduce is off of your physical complexion. Other than that, you are arrogant, lazy and imprudent. A wicked example for society, Miss Potter." He tightened his grasp and leant in, his forehead practically touching her own. "A _Bitch_."

Before she could retaliate, she was thrown back across the office and refaced with the metal chair. She could not allow her mind to be trespassed yet again, and since this was getting her nowhere, she retracted her own wand and shouted "Protego!" his way, and now she would get to view her father bullying a young Snape rather cruelly. He, along with a few other recognizable faces including Sirius, Remus, and Wormtail could be seen rooting on her father to 'pants' the Potions-teacher-to-be and lift him into the air and dangle him airborne via impedimenta charm.

Along came her mother then, chastising her father for picking on Severus, only to be called a mudblood by Severus for defending him, when he could've-

Done it himself? Well, it certainly didn't seem that way, did it?

Intrigue had captivated Antonia wholly, even as the Prof ended the memory for her. She was far too dazed to berate him for what he'd said to her mother, though she, at that time, had never felt so much contempt for the greasy git.

She went numb as if all the circulation on her body had been cut off and she had to lean against the table behind her for support as the aggravated Professor marched for her in a livid-beyond-belief manner.

She prepared herself for either the most scornful insults she'd ever heard audibly in her years, or, perhaps in a debauched sense, she foresaw him ripping off her silk nightgown in one sex-depraved hurl and throwing her atop the table she leant against right then, to fuck her out of her own mind and have her bleed everywhere, forcing her to give up her virginity to this man, perhaps with her own intention, perhaps not.

However, neither of those options had been the result, for she was merely thrown out of his office, along with a jar of magical regrowth oil. She saw little of him for the remainder of that year, except for in Potions class, and boy, would those hours be awkward. Even more so than before.

* * *

A/N:

_Disclaimer: All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros._

I have to give my thanks to **RachaelEwe**, **dragoon109** and **GhostAvatar** for giving their thoughts.

I'd love to hear feedback and opinions at this point in the story. Thank you for staying with it thus far and have a fantastic weekend! :)

-JLM


	6. Something, Somewhere

**Chapter Six: Something, Somewhere**

"Professor McGonagall, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, the Headmaster would like a word with you in his office."

"Um, did he say what for, ma'am?"

"No, he did not tell me why; he just needs to discuss a matter over with you. I'm sure it is nothing serious."

She nodded and thanked the older professor for letting her know before heading to Dumbledore's office. She recalled him telling her earlier of a proposition regarding the new Potions teacher, Horace Slughorn. Before school had started, he informed her that she would "Be his crowning jewel."

By this, she was sure that he meant that he would try and-

Wait, on second thought, she had no idea what the hell he really meant. Hopefully now, she would be getting the answer she'd been wondering about for the past week since their discussion.

She entered the passageway up to his office and knocked once she arrived before his closed door. She waited patiently until she heard him say "Come in."

The first thing that caught her eyes was the display case filled with what looked to be tiny scrolls set out in an array, all glowing and visually appeasing.

"Memories are what you're looking at."

Antonia turned to see her Headmaster walk out from behind the case. He then plucked one small vial from the cart and said "This one here is perhaps the most important memory I've collected."

She glanced over the luminescent token he held between his thumb and index fingers. "I'd like you to see it," he added.

"Is that why you've called me down here, sir?"

"Indeed. Antonia, as I've mentioned before, and plenty of times at that, it is crucial that you understand exactly what you're dealing with. If you are to do just that, then I believe it will be of great help if you start by seeing for yourself who the Dark Lord truly is, and _was_."

She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at him with that statement.

"Do you mean to tell me that _that _memory contains Voldemort's...life as a child?"

As her Headmaster tilted the vial to allow a billow of a smoky mist to seep down into the pit, he answered "Why don't you take a look for yourself?"

Feeling on edge, she proceeded with his instruction and warily approached the pensieve, then dipped her head down into it to be led into a rainy scene where a younger Albus was headed towards a large building holding an umbrella over his head and wearing robes that differed greatly from what he usually wore currently.

He approached _Wool's Orphanage_, and then met up with its Headmistress. They were ascending stairs and speaking about a troubled boy who was currently residing there.

"I must admit to some confusion, Mr. Dumbledore. In all the years Tom's been here, he's never once had a visitor. There have been incidents with the other children...nasty things."

The woman knocked on the boy's door and said "Tom, you have a visitor."

"How do you do, Tom?" Dumbledore kindly inquired. He stepped further into the room, perhaps having intentions to shake his hand for a more proper introduction. The first thing that he heard pass the boy's lips was a mere single-worded demand.

"Go."

That request was presumably meant for the lady, for she was then out of sight. Albus made himself comfortable across the boy on his bed, while the child sat at his desk.

"You're a doctor, aren't you?" the boy asked.

"No, I'm a Professor," Dumbledore genially corrected.

"I don't believe you. They think I'm...different."

"Well, perhaps they're right," Albus interjected thoughtfully.

"I'm _not _mad."

"Hogwarts is not a place for mad people. Hogwarts is a school. A school of magic. You can do things, can't you, Tom? Things that other children can't."

"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt...who are you?"

"I'm like you, Tom. I'm different."

"Prove it."

Tom's wardrobe was then aflame.

"At Hogwarts, you are not only taught how to use magic, but how to control it. Do you understand me?"

He then began to head out, to allow his words to sink in for consideration. Yet, the young Tom had more to say.

"I can speak to snakes too. They find me...and they whisper things...is that normal for someone like me?"

The memory began to clear up.

…

"Did you know, sir...then…"

"Did I know that I'd just met the most dangerous dark wizard of all time? No."

"Started his arseholery young, didn't he, sir?" Antonia mumbled, perhaps rhetorically.

The old Head wandered about his office in deep thought while Antonia yawned silently to herself. She was thankful that it was finally Friday night, and she was sure she would be sleeping-in late tomorrow morning, purposefully missing breakfast even, but at least she had made plans to meet up with her friends in Hogsmeade that afternoon, for much socializing was in order after a long first week back into their academics.

"Over the course of this year, Antonia, I shall show you more accounts of the Dark Lord's earliest enactments. You may be stunned, I must warn. He took on some rather gruesome characteristics even at a young age, as you'll see for yourself soon enough."

"Well, actually, that really isn't of much shock to me, sir...I'd already reckoned that he must have been pretty messed up in his youth...I mean, I think it's rational."

"Yes, I think you're right about that. I'm satisfied that you've realized that. Now, I have a deal of sorts to make with you, Antonia. It regards Professor Slughorn."

'_I knew it!' _she shouted in her mind.

"Um, okay...so, what do I need to do?"

"Do you recall me telling you of how Horace enjoys traits in his students that signify talent, fame and power? I then told you of how you have all three, thereby marking you an inevitable 'jewel' for him to feel the desire to prize. I'd like you to befriend the professor, Antonia. He, just as he did years ago when he worked here, is yet again reinstating his old 'club' so to speak; the 'Slug Club'. I'd like you to join. I'm sure that all you'll need to do is ask."

She was mildly addled by his proposition. "Um, sir, not that I dislike your suggestion or the Professor in any way, but...why exactly do I need to do this?"

"He is holding a key memory that may hold information to the seventh horcrux. I am unable to personally obtain the particular thought from him, for he believes that I already have it. However, he has collaborated an exaggerated one. From you, I require the real one."

"And how am I supposed to gather the real one? It's not like I can just walk up to him and drain it from his forehead just like that," she stated with a slight laugh at the end.

"Precisely. That is why you are to first gain his full trust first. It will take some time, but eventually there will come a moment when you will be granted access to the specific memory that I so direly require. Have faith in me, Antonia. I'm certain we can make this work out. It's all for the best."

He held out his slender and wrinkled hand for the skeptical redhead to shake, and she did so halfheartedly.

"If you think that best, sir."

"I do. Don't you worry. This task shall not be troublesome for you case, nor his. I'm sure you two will get along greatly."

She smiled warmly at him and stifled a much-needed yawn. "I hope so. Goodnight, sir."

"Rest well."

…

Would she have to warm up to him in order to proceed with Dumbledore's wishes? Or could she just approach the Slytherin teacher and straightly ask him if she could...what was it, join? his club. Well, it already seemed like the Professor took a liking to her, so what damage could confronting the old man do?

Albus had been gentle yet adamant with his pact. She figured it wise to not postpone approaching him with her assigned question. The sooner she did this, the better. After class the following Monday on the 8th, she went up to him just after he finished discussing a matter over with another student. She lightly drew in a breath and straightened her posture, as if preparing for a job interview, then addressed her first statement.

"Em, Professor Slughorn?"

He turned from the pile of sheets layered on his desk and put on a delighted expression. At least she found it very welcoming.

"Ah, Miss Potter. However may I be of assistance, my dear?"

"Well...I was just wondering if, maybe I could...you see, word has gotten around that you are going to be running an after school club of sorts...and-"

"Ah, yes. When I taught here in the past I ran it. I've decided to go forth with it again. Some of my students have already agreed to join. Just recently, I've asked Miss Granger, and she has concurred. I have been meaning to ask you to join us as well, but you always seem to leave class in such a hurry, so-"

"Oh! Well, of course I'll join, sir! Thank you for the invitation."

She briefly embraced him before trotting off to her next class. Well, that had gone easier than she thought it would. Not that it shocked her too much, however, for she had been excelling greatly in the class so far, all thanks to her unusual yet exceedingly handy instructions contained in her outwardly ordinary Advanced Potions book. Had she not had the extra help in the notes jotted inside of the text, then she'd likely be getting along just as everyone else did.

Exceptionally.

Her next task was to, as ordered by the Headmaster, 'gain his full trust'. Now, that seemed to be more of a challenge. She couldn't _ask _for that; he would have to voluntarily hand her the information on his own accord. What Dumbledore was asking for sounded very personal, and Antonia knew that _she _wouldn't be willing to just _hand over _her most private and confidential thoughts just like that.

Well, she could only wait for time to direct her from then on. She'd just have to wait and see what would happen, and only patience would tell her whether or not this experiment would work out as planned or not.

* * *

That second week lingered on more smoothly than the first. Antonia's bruises were beginning to fade and her confidence was relocating its place within her. Not to be gotten wrong, she was still keeping her focus on Draco Malfoy every single day, watching out for any atypical signs that may raise alarm. So far, he seemed to be laying low from making any obnoxious attempts at misbehaving. Then again, Antonia had to admit that his wanderings about the castle to Merlin-knew-where were fairly discreet. Perhaps she was staring at the blond boy so often that he seemed to be obnoxious to her, and just her. Truth be told, he was driving her mad. Of course she didn't want to stalk him like this; watch over him like she was his doting mummy, but after that little shenanigan she witnessed at Borgin and Burkes, she had to be suspicious of his actions. She knew damn well exactly what he was up to, but as mentioned, she couldn't report it until she had definite proof that he was doing as she thought.

…

Continuously throughout the remainder of that month she'd see him leave breakfast, lunch and dinner a little early so he could take care of something, somewhere. The majority of the time she'd force herself to ignore him and stay where she was with her friends, but when it grew towards the end of the month, she could no longer stand it, or sit it.

It was September 28th when Antonia had just taken a final sip of her dinner of steaming chicken broth soup when she yet again saw him rise from his seat, at the same time as always, and depart the Great Hall. She could feel herself begin to shake with anticipation. Where the _bloody hell _was he going?!

"I-I need to make a trip to the library, guys. Madam Pince told me earlier today that she'd receive the book I needed by this time, so...see you all."

She got up briskly and nearly bolted down the hall. She _was _going to catch him right in the act this time! As usual, he had taken a right once outside of the eating area, and so Antonia followed his steps.

By now she had his routine memorized. He would take three turns down the halls, then be out of sight. Antonia had hypothesized that perhaps he was going into one of the rooms and hiding out in there to do whatever it was he was doing, so she kept hot on her heels, keeping not thirty feet behind him so she could see what room it was that he was going into all these times.

Sure enough, she did indeed see him go into a classroom, one which she had not been in before. She sprinted down the hall and stopped before the door he had left open. She slowly looked inside, careful not to make any noise so she wouldn't be heard. Her heart pounded vigorously upon noticing that the room was _unbelievably _empty.

Her wild confusion eased once she realized that the door on the other side of the room had been left wide open. He had merely taken a shortcut. She sped to the other side of the class and went out the door. There was one hall to her right, but to her left, a large cement wall. Draco was nowhere to be seen. Still, she hurriedly searched the entirety of this hallway to seek him out, and after spending nearly fifteen minutes tearing up another series of halls, not even sure which one he could have possibly gone down, she reluctantly sacrificed her hunt.

'_Damn it all!' _she scowled to herself, kicking the wall in frustration. She had been in school for nearly a month and still she failed to successfully follow the supposed wrong-doer to his final destination. She vowed to get him next time. Her sanity depended on it.

* * *

_Reminisce: Summer of 1996_

'_Oh, you get me ready in your '56 Chevy_

_Why don't we go sit down in the shade?_

_Take shelter on my front porch_

_Dandelion sun scorching_

_With a glass of cold lemonade'_

"I will do the laundry, if you pay all the bills!" Antonia crooned. There she laid splayed out in a field in Surrey in her brought fold-up chair. Her stereo was tuned at a high volume and happened to be playing one of her favorite songs 'Where Have All the Cowboys Gone' by Paula Cole. It was nearly eighty degrees out this day in mid-July, and Antonia decided to take up her daily mourning in solitude out in the middle of a valley over her usual spot in the corner of her bedroom in the Dursley household. She was growing tired of Vernon's constant bitching anyways.

She chugged her brought bottle of chardonnay as she wept over the death of her godfather. He had passed not three weeks earlier, and she was getting no better by the days. At least drunken karaoke could distract her from the memory that still stuck-out transparently every damn time she closed her eyes. He was gone just like that. It all happened so fast.

"I will raise the children, if you pay all the bills."

Her drink was almost halfway gone by now, and she was feeling extraordinarily light headed. A girl her age most certainly should not have been drinking the way she was, especially every day. But how else was she to ease the pain? He was the only real family she had. He was her guide to life. He was her surrogate father. Her role model. Now, she would never see him again, at least not for a very, very long time, anyways.

Her throat was immune to her binging at this point, now only tingling lightly instead of that former burning sensation she felt when she decided to get intoxicated. She sloppily swigged her tall bottle and let the bittersweet liquid pour down her throat all too willingly. She had taken on an unhealthy habit.

"Where is my John Wayne? Where is my prairie song? Where is my happy ending?"

More hot tears welled around her eyes. Mascara ran down her face in messy clumps, staining her cheeks a dark gray tinge, and her eyes were bloodshot to hell. She just couldn't find it within herself to give a single shit.

She threw her head back and gazed up at her charming view of a sunset. Her view was a hazy orange with swirls of pink and red. She wisely chose to not look directly into the sun, and rather at the fluffy clouds surrounding, unless of course she wanted to take on a single characteristic of her father's, that being the need to don glasses on a constant basis. She favored her near perfect vision, thank you.

She sniffled and despairingly sang "I am wearing my new dress tonight, but you, but you don't even notice meeeeeeeeee-"

She let the muggle singer finish the long note while she broke down into nearly hysterical sobs, this time falling out of her chair while doing so.

She closed her soaked eyes and let the music speak to her.

"Fuck, I miss you, Sirius."

* * *

It was the fifth of October when Antonia found herself going back and forth between the bathroom in her dorm and her closet in dire search of something.

'_Where the hell did I leave it?!' _she pondered angrily to herself. She had misplaced her favorite necklace with a heart pendant that had belonged to her mother when she was a teenager, as told by her Aunt Petunia a while earlier. She wore it regularly whenever she would wear a shirt that would compliment the jewelry as she pleased, but now she just couldn't find it anywhere.

She concluded that it was not in the bathroom after tearing through the small lavatory at least three times. She went for the closet and ransacked each of her drawers in search of it. All she found was Uncle Vernon's old chibouk that she used over the summer for-

Nevermind! She had to get rid of this thing, and fast. She hadn't even realized that she had brought it along with her. She didn't even have any maryjane to go with it. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of any of her roommates finding this device, even if they didn't even know what it was. Surely Hermione would recognize the controversial appliance, considering she was from a _M__uggle _family and all, and Antonia could not bear explain that she had taken up smoking weed when times were the roughest over their holiday. She herself understood that it was a ridiculous and even drastic measure to take, even for the death of a loved one.

It was just that natural grieving wasn't doing it for her, so she looked to alcohol and earthly drugs such of marijuana to calm her down. Nothing too extreme of course. Not that she could obtain such toxins anyways. She was so desolate over the summer that she couldn't speak to anyone, let alone her witch and wizard friends.

She panicked when she heard someone approaching the doorway. Cripes, she had to rid this pipe, and mighty fast. She considered the possibility of concealing it somewhere else in the castle. For now, she had to hide.

She closed the closet door and kept silent while one of her roommates, she couldn't tell who, rummaged through a drawer and left. She sighed in relief, got to her feet and left the dorm.

She made her way up to the seventh floor, assuming that a flight this high would make for a grand riddance area for her technically illegitimate pipe. She entered one hall, then another, then returned to the same hallway she entered, deciding to just set her pipe up against the wall in the corner. Yet, she took only a few steps out when she got the frightening gist that it may have been possible for the staff or Dumbledore himself to trace the owner of it if it was found.

No, she needed to really_ hide_ it.

She had her mind set on a cupboard, or a trunk or _something_ she could use to thoroughly keep this out of other's view, and with that, she found herself in another room. She let out a shaky sigh in relief for her quick course of action and looked around.

She had never been in here before. All around her were piles of chests, old and dusty desks resting off in the corners, contraptions and unidentifiable artifacts elongating the exterior of the far-off corners, large stained glass allowing in a considerable amount of sunlight to reflect through, creating a beautiful lighting throughout the entire area, many chairs and one large cabinet sitting in the middle of the room.

Wherever she was, she knew she was in the right place. That cabinet looked promising enough to hide her little shameful secret. She scurried up to the tall contrivance and opened it up. Nothing else was inside from what Antonia could tell, so she went ahead and placed her pipe on the center of the empty space.

Just as she closed the cabinet up, she heard footsteps near from the other room. Petrified, she quickly hid behind a pile of unused junk and peered through an opening. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

'_Draco?!'_

There he was standing before the very cabinet that she was just in front of moments before. She stilled herself on the floorboards and placed her left hand firmly over her quivering lips so as to prevent her from hollering out at him. So this was where he had been marching off to this entire time?

She watched silently as he opened up the cabinet and placed something inside of it. He closed his eyes and mumbled something that she couldn't decipher from where she sat a distance away. He stayed where he was for not much longer than a minute, appearing to do not much more than open and close the cabinet a few times, removing things and placing them back in in those few times. Finally, once he seemed satisfied with whatever the heck he just did, he marched back off in the direction from which he came.

Antonia remained where she was for at least a couple minutes to ensure that he was truly gone before she got to her feet and went back to the cabinet. She had to know what he was toying around with. She opened the cabinet with expectations that she would find something interesting, and she had indeed.

There was nothing there at all. Not even her chibouk.

Right then she realized that Draco must have been apparating to get to where he had been going this entire time. At least now she knew exactly where to locate him the next time she'd see him jet out of the Great Hall.

And oh yes, she was most definitely going to follow after him.

…

She pined to tell her friends of Draco's plans and her secret drinking sessions, but she just couldn't find it within herself to reveal such dark and desperate circumstances. Particularly the drinking. They all knew that she was upset, of course. They all were feeling dreary as well, but not the same. No, none of them _could _fully understand exactly how she was feeling. She lost a family member, while to them he was more just another kind hearted adult figure.

To Antonia, he was more than that. Far more. She felt a deep, unconditional connection with him. He was so wise in his demeanor and words alike; almost godly in her eyes. To her, it felt as if the General had come in and died in her lap. Yes, it was like losing a father, or in her case_, another _father.

It sucked terribly. So terribly, that she was thankful that her friends couldn't fathom her depressive ways. Hence her reasoning for closing herself away from them and the world as a whole and seeking counsel with a good fifth of vodka.

Lord, she was a mess.

A fake smile and gleaming essence was provided for the unknowing acquaintances to hide her tortured inner sanctum. She'd forced herself to snap out of it when in their presence. She had to move on at some point, right?

At least the illicit Slytherin was managing to captivate her interest lately during dinner time in the Great Hall this night on October 11th. There he was yet again up and at 'em straight off towards the entrance. So was she.

"Where are you going _now_?" Ron blurted in not angered but flustered disbelief. Ah, they'd caught her. She was certainly leaving their meals early nearly every day to fruitlessly chase after the alleged miscreant, and now the crew was beginning to find her borderline distant behavior odd.

She decided to be defiantly convincing by looking him squarely in the eyes and confessing "It's _that time _of the month, Ronald."

She strutted off leaving the male Weasley to go red-hot in the face and the girls hooting with laughter. The excuse was not phenomenal, but it worked, but only because it was obscene _enough_. She didn't have time to care for her bluntness, however. If she kept hot on her heels now, she'd surely keep up with him.

Along with that, she had her invisibility cloak with her, so she could get as close as she desired without actually touching him. She draped it over herself once she was out into the main hall. She removed her flats so her stride would go unheard to his ears. Once she was around the corner of the next hallway, she let him get ahead, for she knew where he was going anyways. She had to get to that same area on her own terms.

She allowed no more than a few minutes to pass before she headed for the seventh floor. Once she was back where she was before, she repeated the gesture that she had done recently. She envisioned the room along with the chibouk and the large and eccentric tallboy she used to hide her pipe. She stood still and kept the thought clear in her mind for a number of seconds and opened her eyes to see that she was still in her place. She tried again.

Nothing.

'_Why isn't it working? Do I need a possession?' _

She grabbed ahold of her cloak and envisioned the need to 'hide' it in the cabinet she saw before. Nothing occurred. She began to wonder if she had done anything differently that evening the week earlier while she was up here. All she could recollect was her intense need to hide her chibouk, and hastily. She decided to just keep on thinking of that room and the cabinet.

She must have wasted at least forty minutes doing this.

And she honestly couldn't grasp what she was doing incorrectly.

* * *

**A/N: **_Disclaimer: All rights to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. _

I have to thank **greatzambini**, **Guest** and **bageltiger** for the lovely reviews :)

Thank you all for reading. I'd like to make a note that Toni's seemingly rebellious habits are only perpetrated due to her extreme lachrymose over Sirius' death. I don't intend to make her a deliberate rebel, simply because that is not who she is by nature. At the same time, she can't help but find the usage of Vernon's pipe along with heavy alcohol consumption to be effective pain easers. She hopes to quit her dangerous 'habits' in time.

Other than that, she is also profoundly determined to find out what Draco is up to for mere reasons of vengeance. She wants him in as much trouble as possible for matters beyond just the bullying he's treated her with since first year, as well as reasons that will be revealed and examined more clearly later on in the story.

Until next week, then :) -JLM


	7. All of the Sudden

***Potentially sensitive themes ahead**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: All of the Sudden**

'_21 October 1996_

_At least I've uncovered his little private hideout...Now to just see exactly what it is that he's been up to in there. Furthermore, I myself need to figure out how the bloody hell__I__got into that room… I am assuming that there is some sort of pattern or routine I need to go through in order to go back._

_It's not getting any easier. I've never missed anything or anyone so much in my life. Every morning that I wake, I look back to that night, and I want to go back and see him again. And since the angels have no intentions of returning him back to me, I can't help but wonder if it would be so bad if I thought of joining him. _

_Fuck, what I am I going to do? My stock is drying out quickly. I've been meaning to get out to Hogsmeade soon to em...restock up...then again, I don't suppose I can easily get away with alcoholic beverages unless I steal them…_

_I can't do that._

_Ok, this Halloween I'm going to The Three Broomsticks with the gals, Mione, Gin and Luna...maybe I can get a few mouthfuls of firewhiskey while there…? ;) te he..I'll be seeing._

_As of now, I've got priorities that I need to see to for the rest of this month onwards to the next. Albus wants me to be a part of this 'Slug Club' or something bizarre like that. Personally, I could pass up the offer, for I have other matters to address at the moment, (like catching Draco in the act and preparing for the second war). How much can I handle, really? Lord, maybe it's time to get my chibouk back and find myself a dealer!_

_Or a could always just cope like an adult._

_I don't know...I'm just so lost at the moment.._

_~Antonia'_

She slammed her diary shut with that final note and carelessly tossed in onto her dresser. She placed her wand aside it and shuffled in her sheets in a futile attempt to get cozy. Ever since her godfather had passed, she sought difficulty with getting any shuteye. That's right, she'd developed a bout of insomnia.

More than anything else, she was exhausted from all the pain she was it even normal to cry _this long _over the death of a loved one? She wasn't entirely sure, nor did she really care. It wasn't like there was anything she could do about it except drown out her sorrows with her best pals Chardonnay, Champagne and Merlot, and she was running low on all three.

She closed her eyes and settled into her mattress as well as she could, and after a large handful of minutes came and went, she finally drifted off.

…

"What the bloody hell are ya doing, Malfoy?!"

He dropped the unidentifiable possession at her out-of-nowhere command and spun around to face the redhead standing not a far distance off by a dust-covered lampshade.

"How did you get in here, Potter?" he spat, his tone full of contempt but his expression denoting more alarm.

She crossed her arms and swayed over to him slowly, going the same pace that he did during their confrontation on the train on the night they arrived weeks earlier. His eyes raked over her body that donned nothing more than a thin silk satin nightgown. Her feet were bare and pale in the moonlight and her skin had an alluring glow about it. Her decolletage was entirely naked and just a hint of cleavage was out for foreign eyes.

"Just the same way you did, love. I walked."

He whipped his wand out and jabbed it at her jawline. "Don't you fucking get smart with me, now, _Potter_," he sputtered the 'P' just as he always did, as if spitting out something that tasted disgusting.

"Don't act like a fool, then."

He growled threateningly at her and pressed his wand harder against her angular jaw, though she winced none. "I'm warning you, bitch. One more little remark and I'll hex the piss straight out of you."

"But I don't even have to pee, Dra-"

"SHUT UP!"

She watched him calmly whereas he shook in his stance, looking like he was about to wet all over the front of his pants himself. Her gaze landed on his gritted teeth. She couldn't help but giggle at his poor attempt at looking all macho and aggressive. It was quite adorable, really.

"I know what you've been up to. You're a Death Eater now, aren't you?"

She dared to close the distance between them and wrap her fingers around his left wrist. They began to unfasten the sleeve's buttons and slide the cloth up his arm.

"What are you doing?!"

"Shh. I just want to see it."

She gently turned his arm to face the ceiling, revealing what was undoubtedly a traditional Dark Mark on his inner forearm. She could feel agitation emanating off of him as she trailed her fingers over the nefarious symbol. His mien went stoic and he could only feel comfort at her delicate and soft touch.

"Mm, Draco...why did you do it?"

"I had to."

"Why?"

He retracted his arm from her hold and backed away. Unfazed as she appeared, on the inside she was reaching her boiling point. "Dammit, Draco-"

"Go on! Just—just get out!"

She impulsively went on to throw her arms around the tall adolescent's shoulders and ram her lips into his. He may have been consumed with bewilderment at this, but he painstakingly moved his lips back against hers in turn.

He let his hands wander down to her waist and rest an inventive yet sultry idea implemented in her thoughts, she allowed her hands to linger as well. She chose a more promising place to rest her hand. She groped his pant-clad manhood, earning a throaty groan in turn. She massaged his covered pride and glory and mumbled "Now tell me."

Getting the gist of her clever plan, he disgustedly shoved her away from him and mustered "You lousy whore! Filthy, temptress slut!"

Wide-eyed, she decided to reinstate her innocent act with "Rethink your wording, lovely. I'm still purely virgin."

No longer able to stand her irksome statements, he snarled "Impedimenta!" knocking her off of her feet and backwards to slam the floorboards with a hard thud. He stormed off, leaving her to shout "I will find out your motives! I will!"

…

All she could think about that next morning during breakfast was how she could get ahold of some _Dreamless _sleep potion, because this was the second dream she had that involved kissing the enemy, and this time, _she _was the one putting the moves on _him_.

Her stare was lost on her bowl of oatmeal, merely studying the swirls of cinnamon like she had a test on it that day. Her friends seemed to take notice of her distant behavior that morning.

"How's the monthly dilemma, Toni?" Ron teased.

"Ronald! How very crude of you!" scolded Hermione, while the other girls couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's fine, thank you," Antonia answered confidently.

Her meal just didn't appear to be the slightest bit appetizing this morning, so Antonia opted to, as usual, scoot her bowl off to the side and rest her head in her palm. Hermione was a tad cautious this morning, it seemed.

"Antonia, you should at least eat _something_. Lately you've been so lax with your diet."

"Thanks for your concern, love!" she chimed in her singsong tone, half sarcastic, half genuine.

"Well, she ought to be. You look like you've lost some weight. You've picked up a habit of picking at your food then taking off somewhere at least fifteen minutes early for nearly every meal almost every day. We're only wondering if you're alright," Ginny declared wholeheartedly.

Antonia felt speechless at her statement. She really didn't have an excellent excuse for her reclusive ways. If she were to tell the gang about her endeavors chasing around the blond prat they'd likely chastise her in turn, telling her she's being "obsessive" or "too paranoid", and maybe she was. This was too important to her to just abort now. She was slowly garnering clues anyways. She already discovered his undisclosed destination, so she figured she was at least off to a good start.

"I-I've just been upset over Sirius' death, is all. I'm okay, everyone. I highly appreciate your concern. I really do."

Empathetic nods returned her way, then conversation was again normal. Antonia purposefully straightened up her sluggish posture and told herself to get her act together. She may have been mopey on the inside, but she damn well wasn't going to flaunt her lachrymose mood to the clique. Whatever happened to the fun-loving girl with high spirits that her friends saw not even two years ago?

She dearly missed that time when things were alright. Certainly, she faced difficulties since her first year with word of You-Know-Who surpassing everyone's lips. Rumor had it that he would be returning in some wicked form, and soon, and it had , before it did inevitably occur, Antonia had to admit that she was actually happy with her life.

She adored magic from the day she'd discovered that it exists. All her life, she'd been raised to be "normal" in the eyes of her aunt and uncle. There was _most certainly _no such thing as magic. She wasn't even allowed to go through those phases where children believed in such whimsical anomalies and characters such as Santa or the Tooth Fairy. Her Uncle Vernon was particularly harsh with teaching her real from fake. Hell, she wasn't even allowed to watch _Disney Films _in her youth!

Looking back, her first ten years were somewhat miserable and very dull; nothing a child should ever have to undergo in her opinion. Hagrid had saved her from an even more boring and sad adolescence, and she couldn't regret any of what had happened over the last five years, minus the death's of Sirius and Cedric, of course.

She remembered a time when she was full of life. She couldn't stop smiling, even in Snape's Potions classes, frequently getting points from her House taken away for laughing out loud at Ron's little tidbits and jokes he'd whisper at the most inappropriate of times.

She even found her little arguments with Malfoy during those classes entertaining, whereas now she did all she could to avoid confronting him entirely, excluding her need to stalk him while going unnoticed.

"So, under Dumbledore's recommendations, I am joining Professor Slughorn's little club," Antonia announced while absentmindedly swirling around the last few spoonfuls of her oatmeal.

"He asked me to join last week, and I, em, didn't want to turn down his offer, for it may have seemed, well,_ rude_, so I too will be joining," Hermione replied. "You know we're having our first dinner party this Friday at 6:30?" she added.

Antonia was slightly taken aback. "Oh really? He failed to tell me...we don't need to um, dress up formally for it, do we?"

"Well, I'm wearing my best outfit just to look...presentable. I would wear a flattering dress just to-"

"Got it. I shall dress to the hilt. Impress the crowd, even. Thanks for the tip, Hermione," she joyfully chipped in, though on the inside she was and had always been far from 'formal'.

* * *

"And what about you, Miss Granger? What exactly does your family do in the _Muggle World_?" Horace threw at Hermione, who was sitting across the table.

'_Blunt motherfucker…' _Antonia thought, distraught at her professor's tone at his final two spoken words. What exactly did he have against muggles? While he didn't give off that pure-blooded bigot vibe, she sensed that he still had some form of distaste for non-magical folk.

"My parents are dentists," she answered.

Everyone seated around the table gazed confusedly at her, except Antonia.

"They tend to people's teeth," she confirmed awkwardly. Antonia couldn't help but smirk at bit at the situation.

With a highly cocked brow, the professor went on to say "Fascinating. Is that considered a _dangerous _profession?"

"No. Although, one boy, Robbie Fenwick, did bite my father once...He had to get ten stitches."

Antonia wanted to cough to clear up the terrible brief silence that cruelly settled in. Luckily, at that moment, Ginny had arrived to distract everyone from Hermione's 'confusing' memoir.

"Ah, Miss Weasley. Come in, come in."

"Look at her eyes; they've been fighting again. Her and Dean," Hermione whispered into Antonia's ear.

After Ginny apologized for being late, Antonia mumbled "She ought to get back together with Michael. I've heard some nasty shit about that Dean fellow."

"You don't suppose he _hits _her?"

"Domestic violence? Lord, I hope not. The girl's _fifteen _for goodness sake. Too young for such stress."

Antonia then thought of how ironic that final part of her statement was. She was going through a tremendous amount of stress at the time, and hell, she was just _sixteen_. Yet, her circumstances were nonviable of assistance. She had to face these things, such as Voldemort and the lame dinner parties with the whole 'Slug Club' membership, because she was honestly required to. The Chosen One she was, and she had duties to accomplish in turn.

…

'_Alright. Just take a deep, wholesome breath in. That's it. You can do this...Yes I can. Yes I can. Yes I-'_

"Miss Potter?"

"Oh! I um…"

'_Fuck!'_

"I was just admiring your hourglass…"

'_Jesus Christ, Albus, why?'_

"Ah, yes. Most _intriguing _object...The sand runs in accordance with the quality of the conversation. It is simulating the sand runs slowly-"

"Wonderful, sir! I-I think I'll be going then-"

A hand landed on the upper right side of her back, nearly knocking the wind out of her. "Nonsense! No need to fear, young lady. It's just some of your classmates...let's just say they're unlikely to make the shelf!"

Her stomach was churning into butter, she could swear. "Shelf?"

"Anyone who aspires to be anyone, hopes to end up here," he guided, waving his arm towards the shelf containing many frames of former students, similar to the one's she saw the night she first met him in Budleigh Babberton.

"But then again, you already are someone, aren't you, Antonia?"

He approached a table and poured himself a cup of tea. She was all too eager to hightail it on out of there, but she had to first take care of some unfinished business, as directed by the Headmaster himself.

Following an earthquake of a sigh, she huffed "Did Voldemort ever make the shelf, sir?"

She paused for a few moments, drinking in his straightened posture and cessation of pouring liquid.

'_Well, go on, then!'_

"You knew him, sir? Tom Riddle? You were his teacher."

"Well, Mr. Riddle had a number of teachers whilst here at Hogwarts…"

Dread consumed her, but she soldiered on. "What was he like?"

It appeared that she had left him speechless. "Sorry, sir. Forgive me, please. He killed my parents."

With obvious hesitation, he answered "Of course. It's only natural you should want to know more, but I'm afraid I must disappoint you, Antonia."

He slowly turned to meet her in the eyes and continued "When I first met Mister Riddle, he was a quiet albeit brilliant boy committed to becoming a first-rate wizard. Not unlike others I've known. But, unlike yourself, a monster existed. It was just...buried _deep _within."

…

'_Well, that was bloody pointless...' _she gruffly thought to herself while heading back to her dormitory. '_Most certainly wasn't worth the hassle of wearing my most uncomfortable heels. That's for damn sure.'_

She kicked them off her sore, blistered feet and hooked them over her fingers the rest of the way. At least now she had a good, long weekend to look forward to.

More blessed rest.

And she was feeling awful drowsy at this hour, though it must have been no later than 8:00 at night. Still, she found it odd that the halls seemed bare at such an early hour, especially for a Friday night. She didn't glue her thoughts to the matter too much however, for she could always go for a little alone time in the corridors. Her hair was loose from its previous tight bun and her forest green dress was shedding sparkles fast. She began to hum delightfully to herself as she turned onto the next corner.

With what occurred next, she began to question the existence of God, Jesus, Merlin, or any sort of Lord or savior, because she _had _to run into him. While it took her a moment to be aware of what had just happened, he seemed to take course straight away.

The next thing she knew, her head was slammed against the wall and she was barricaded with his entire body, unable to move freely. Her wrists were bound above her head and the male's forehead was pressed harshly against hers.

The scent of what she deciphered as _Quintin Black_ welcomed her nostrils and rough and jagged panting were covering her face. Her struggling yet again granted her no avail, and those moments the two shared in that compact hall closet were about to play over again.

"Why is it always _you _who stands in my way, Potter? When will you learn any better? When will you fathom the dangers of fucking around with me?"

"Oh, here we go…"

Her right cheek was yet again met with his quick backhand. "Ow! Motherfucker-"

He withdrew his wand and made his most pervasive move yet by prodding it in between her thighs. She let out a sharp gasp and felt her cheeks burn up in a combination of embarrassment, anger and...arousal?

No, Lord no…

"Get your fucking wand off of me you chauvinistic prick!" she snarled, preparing to scream at the top of her lungs.

Oh, how he enjoyed toying around with her. She hollered out for help, receiving dark chuckles in return.

"I wouldn't bother, baby. I've got the surrounding corridors charmed with silence. No one will hear your pleas but myself."

"Then I'll destroy _your _bloody eardrums!"

Before she could belt out again, an ice-cold hand was roughly crushed against her mouth. His head tilted down into her neck and his lips were brought to her right ear to threaten "If you don't take it easy on the squirming, I'll have no choice but to use the fucking imperius curse on you. Got it?"

The mere thought of him having unlimited control over her made her want to vomit. She nodded almost sheepishly and went limp in his hold.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she whimpered, losing all prior defiance.

"First things first, you're going to start addressing me by my first name, wench. I'm getting awful tired of hearing you mutter my surname like it's got an aftertaste similar to that of piss."

"More like _shit_, actually," she boldly corrected.

Her briefly regained self-righteousness was quickly subtracted with a keen whip across the other cheek, surely leaving a decent bruise.

"OH, Bugger!"

"And that back talking is also going to end. It's time you realize who you're below, status-wise _and_-" He crammed himself even further into her, "In literal terms."

"Fuck you! You're nowhere near _superior _over me, you damn idiot!"

Her cheeks began to go numb from all the abuse they were taking. She assumed that his hand was beginning to swell at this point. It must have been.

"I bet you're still a _virgin_, aren't you?" he mocked, enunciating his insult by prying her legs apart and pressing himself further against her, receiving a rather nervous shudder in return.

"None of your goddamn business, cocksu-"

A handful of her hair was tugged viciously, allowing piercing pain to wring through her skull. Panic enveloped her entire being for the billionth time that year alone. She guessed herself to be the unluckiest girl in both the worlds at that moment.

"You're a bloody ignoramus, you are. So stubborn. So pathetically stupid. Can't comprehend a single bloody direction given to you!"

"ROT IN HELL!" she roared.

"One more remark from that filthy mouth of yours and I'm dragging you down to the nearest closet and screwing you out of your fucking mind, whether you _want it _or _not,_" he growled.

"Ooh, do you want to _fuck _me? Is that what this is all about? After all these years, am I _all of the sudden _beautiful to you? Am I no longer the ugly, pale Daywalker that I formerly was?"

Something in that statement alone had set something off in him. His desire to deflower her with taunting, angry and ceremonious sex in one of Filch's supply closets was overcome by his indefinite vow to prove her wrong. He stood correct, _always_.

He released his grip on her and let her slip down to the floor. He backed away, spat on her shoulder and mustered "Never would I do that to such a vile, useless, bloodtraiting vamp."

He was down the hall just like that, leaving her be.

She brought herself to her feet with weak legs. Her hot and throbbing cheeks and aching arms were no match for her newfound depression. She blinked back tears, refusing to let such a loser be the cause of her crying yet again. She practically staggered back to the Gryffindor Tower, groaned the password, wobbled inside and pushed past hoards of people in the common area to get to her personal cupboard.

She cared not if she was seen. She knocked over the box of crackers in the way of her mini winery and garnered her flask of peppermint schnapps. She then stumbled up to her dorm and went inside quickly, thankfully finding the room empty for the time being, and she grabbed her bathrobe and a towel along with some lilac bubble bath, then rushed back out of the common room and headed for the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. She was hitting the _elaborate _tub tonight, and she was going to get a nice little buzz too. Who cared whether or not she was caught?

She'd luckily overheard what the password supposedly was just recently. She tried "Raspberry beret," and it had worked. She stepped in, closed the door, and prayed that it automatically locked on its own somehow, for the last thing she needed that night was old caretaker Filch wandering in to catch her in the nude. She shrugged off suicide as the way to go if that were to occur.

She recalled using this lovely spa-like lavatory back in her fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament when Cedric Diggory gave her the password to use, instructing her to use her Golden Egg in the bathroom. Results had proven to be quite beautiful.

Now, she was still not a prefect, not captain of the Quidditch team, and most certainly not a Head girl, but she just couldn't find it within her to give half a shit. She needed to bathe-out her stress. And she needed her peppermint schnapps to assist her in doing so.

She stripped and left her clothing feet away from the large pool-like tub and stepped into the paved stoned flooring of the bath. She turned the jets on and sat down once they began to spew colorful, steamy waters.

With little time she felt herself submerge into the balmy water. She poured a good fourth of her bubble bath in and wafted around to suds up her bath. She relaxed into a rather lazy position and closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into much-needed euphoria.

Eventually, the jets stopped running leaving Antonia to rest soothingly against the brimstone ledge in chest-high water. She occasionally opened her eyes to grab her flask and take a gulp of her beverage, then immediately reblinded herself to lone, heavenly bliss.

Once on the brink of falling into slumber, she heard a girl's giggle. Just when she disregarded it as her imagination, she heard it again, even louder. She grimaced. She could interpret that irksome schoolgirl chortle from anywhere.

"...Myrtle."

"Your breasts have gotten bigger."

* * *

A/N:

_Disclaimer: all rights to J.K. Rowling etc. etc..._

Thank you** bageltiger** and **The Things You Wish You Knew** for reviewing. :)

As of now I have chosen every Friday for updates. I'm wondering if I should lengthen the chapters or leave them as they are...? Express that if you wish, as well as anything else regarding the story.

~Salutes, JLM


	8. Hallows Eve

_*Strong Language Advisory_

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Hallows Eve**

She defensively shot her hands over her bare breasts and scolded "_Observant_, are we?!"

More childish laughter sounded before a giggled "Long time, no see!"

Antonia rolled her eyes as the young ghost floated around her hyperly. It had been nearly two full years since she had last seen the usually whiny ghoul, but it wasn't like they had a lot of catching up to do. Myrtle was a deceased twelve year old girl and Antonia was a long-suffering albeit alive sixteen year old. Though the two differed greatly in personality, one thing stood out between them in similarities.

Voldemort.

Yes, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had affected them both in unspeakable ways, and while there was really nothing Myrtle could do to get her comeuppance, Antonia still had her chances, though all were very slim for the time being.

"You don't belong in here, do you, Annie?" Myrtle cooed teasingly while gliding down to settle into the bubbles around the stark girl.

"Speak for yourself, sweetie. What's a twelve year old girl such as yourself doing roaming about every lavatory in the school like a smarmy old cleaning lady?"

"One can get quite lonely when just sticking to one bathroom _all the time_, An. I enjoy my freedom, thank you."

Antonia smirked and nodded understandingly. She slowly eased up and let her arms rest at her sides once the wily spirit went on about her business playing in the suds. Suddenly, her transparent eyes landed on the shiny flask that sat on the ledge of the tub.

"What's that?"

Not wanting to raise any alarm or provoke a fit of accusatory guffaws, Antonia simply answered "My juice."

"Mm, I thought only alcoholic drinks were held in flasks like _that_."

Well, despite her age and lack of a physical brain, she was a worldly girl, Antonia had to admit. She sighed "Okay, yes, I've got some peppermint schnapps in there, alright…"

"Peppermint schnapps?"

"Booze," she clarified.

"Ohhh...I see. You've taken on _that _sort of habit, now, have you?"

"Don't ridicule me, little lady. I'm under extreme turbulence right now."

"Enough to _drunk _yourself out?"

Those words actually stung. Maybe it was because they were true, and harshly so.

"You wouldn't understand, Myrtle."

"Wouldn't I? I've been stuck here in this castle for over _fifty _years. I've had plenty of time to understand the things I see and the conversations I hear. I know much more than you think, dearie. I've just been flying around absorbing knowledge like a sponge."

Antonia couldn't suppress a chuckle at that. She had to admit that Myrtle, though a moaner, was usefully wise for a girl her age. It had been over five minutes since she last sipped her drink, yet she felt that polishing it off could wait a little longer, for she was enjoying the sober presence of another.

"Are you drunk right now, Annie?"

Well, was she? She had chugged nearly half the damn bottle already, so…

"Most certainly not."

"Are you _sure_?" she giggled at the her last word.

"...No."

"Drunk as a skunk! Drunk as a skunk! He he!"

Antonia sank down deeper into her bath and sighed dejectedly. Who cared if she was a tad tipsy? It wasn't like she had classes the next day. Not to mention she was certain that she wasn't the _only _buzzed girl in the house, or really, all the Houses. And unlike the others, she was drinking to alleviate the pain, while the others did for petty merriment.

Draco. Stupid fucking Draco. This was his fault, really. What was this, the _third _assault? Including that clear as day dream she had where he raped her in her own goddamn bed. This was getting to be too much.

She snapped out of her daze when she saw that the ghost was trying to grab for her flask. "What are you-"

"Oops! Clumsy me!"

The flask had knocked over into the bath. Her drink was now spoilt.

"Dammit, Myrtle!"

She immediately regretted her word choice when Myrtle began to throw one of her notorious fits right then.

"Eeeeeeep! How _dare _you?! It was an accident! I meant no harm!"

"No, no, Myrtle, I didn't mean to-"

"Ooooh, bother off!"

She sank into the water and began to wail just like she usually did whenever she was even the slightest bit upset. Chills sputtered down Toni's back and she felt dread course through her rapidly at the thought of someone hearing Myrtle's thunderous sobs and rushing into the bathroom to investigate. If she was lucky, a prefect would be the one to burst in through the door, if not, then Argus would be the one to catch her shamefully nude.

And she doubted that he would be quick to remove his eyes from her naked frame.

"Shh! Myrtle, hush! You're going to attract some negative attention!"

"GOOD! I hope that old and grumpy man with the pretty kitty comes in here to see your big ol' bosoms and arse!"

With that horrific and realistic muse, she hopped out of her bath and snatched her robe and clothing.

She was out in an instant.

* * *

_Reminisce: Spring of 1996_

A thick cloud of darkness swooped down around them, proceeding to cloak them in sable fog. She struggled to clear up the pitch-black air all around her along with her recruits.

During the swarm, she laid on the ground, clutching the glass ball tight in her hold. Once the mass had cleared, she rose to her feet to see all of her friends at some Death Eater's mercy.

Luna, Hermione, Ginny, Ronald, Neville—all of them; they were all held threatening in the grasp of the enemies. Antonia stood alone at this moment, frightened to hell.

The silence was then broken by perhaps the darkest chuckle she had ever heard in her years. She could detect it, however. Ah, yes. How could she not have picked up on that overbearingly harrowing tone of his.

"Ooh, hoo hoo, did you actually believe...were you truly naive enough to think that _you _stood a chance against _us_?"

He was in her view now. That bleachy shampoo commercial hair of his, those gleaming gray eyes that reflected pure condescendence, the ivory skin tone and the long nose.

He stepped before her onto a higher ledge, stooping a good six or seven inches above the girl now, and he held out his hand.

"I'll make this simple for you, Potter. Hand me the Prophecy, or watch your friends _die_."

The emphasis he put on that final word make her cringe. She peered around her surroundings. Those looks. She ignored Neville's plea to refuse Lucius' request, and went on to hand him the crystal ball with great reluctance.

He in turn held it up and scrutinizingly inspected it in the moonlight. At that moment, a bout of luminescence flashed out of the blue behind him. Antonia's heart fluttered at the next set of words she heard.

"Get away from my goddaughter."

She could not refuse a triumphant smile to play along her lips at that moment. She felt even more enlightened at the crack she heard following her godfather's keen fist-throw directly at the callous snoot's face.

The entire area was then lit up with thick streams of light that shot all around, wiping out various Death Eater's and successfully knocking Lucius forward to drop the godforsaken Prophecy. She recognized only a couple people who revealed themselves upon dissipating their glowing forms. She saw Remus and Nymphadora, and couldn't quite see the others due to the immediate frenzy against the enemies following their arrival.

Sirius quickly pulled Antonia to the side and told her that she needed to take the others and leave.

"What?! No, I'm staying here with you!"

"You've done beautifully, Antonia. Now, let me take it from here."

They were nearly struck by a hex at Sirius' final word. There, off in the nearby distance stood the blond _Ken doll_-wannabe, a prideful grin smeared on his face. Consumed with adrenaline, fury, bravery, passion, and a number of other things, she began to shoot hexes towards the man alongside her trustworthy surrogate father.

Sirius managed to successfully disarm the opposition, and came close to knocking the tightarse straight on his buttox, until, from off in the distance, a woman howled "Avada Kedavra!"

The victorious smile he was wearing began to fade, and with just another few moments, the rest of him did as well. He had merely been stunned, yet by tragic fate, he had stumbled through a curtain of inevitable demise. Antonia stood amazed as her beloved guardian began to drift off through the Veil.

And in that moment, he was gone.

…

She arose from her sleep with a sobbing gasp. She had dreamt of that night yet again, just as she had been doing for weeks since his passing. Her pillow was soaked with tears and her head ached terribly. She knew she'd require a good bottle's worth of pepperup potion to ease the pain for this migraine, having been induced by not only her excessive alcohol consumption but her disastrous reenactment of a nightmare.

Though with the woeful results that memory had left her in, she only craved the other half of her lost schnapps.

* * *

"Can you get the rest of these buttons, Mione?"

They were due in the common room to meet up with Ginny and Luna in less than ten minutes for the party that was being held in The Three Broomsticks. It was to begin at nine and end Merlin knew when. Antonia was glamoring one of her mother's old satin dresses along with a pair of magically fabricated wings attached to the back of her gown.

"Are you sure we should be doing this? We _do _have classes tomorrow…" Hermione declared while hesitatingly zipping up her own ebony garment along with the smearing of some of her muggle-worldly _Revlon _lipstick to her lips.

"Toss that to me," Antonia stated, overlooking her friend's wariness. She was going to have some well-deserved fun tonight, dammit. If her bookly friend wanted to stay there and spend Halloween night drinking pumpkin juice and snacking on stale pastries with a group of second years then so be it. Antonia was hitting the town that night.

"And what if Filch catches us on the way out?"

She snickered lightly in return at that while applying more mascara than she normally would to her lashes.

"We'll bribe him if that happens, love."

"With what?!" Hermione challenged with a familiar hint of seriousness in her tone.

"...Oral?" Padma chipped in giddily, leaving all the girls to cackle like bona fide witches, except Hermione.

"Ick, I bet his willy's all covered in boils and cold sores of all sorts!" announced her twin sister, Parvati.

"Can't imagine his 'shroom _tastes _too well either. Man looks like he hasn't had a bath since nineteen-seventy-"

"Enough! Please, God, stop," Hermione groaned.

"Yes, girls. Have we forgotten it's _Filch_ we're talking about, here? I mean, if we're going to talk about dick, then can't it at least be of someone decent?" Antonia articulated.

"Like whom? Crabbe?" Padma inquired cleverly.

"OH LORD!" Antonia and the girls (minus Granger) doubled over in laughter.

The night had just begun.

…

"I don't think my invisibility cloak is big enough to cover _us all_," Antonia confessed to the six girls while on the verge of leaving the common room. In response, the Patil twins rolled their eyes and Ginny made a grab for the drapery and unraveled it.

"Let us see for _proper _confirmation, Toni. Come on, girls. We must _really _huddle together," she declared while holding up the cloak in front of her.

A sigh blew out of the cloak owner's mouth as she squeezed in along with the others. It was a fruitless ordeal, for the cloak had covered not even half of their bodies up.

"You see, you silly girl? Let's just beat it already before the old haggard freak starts his patrolling and _does _catch us dead in our tracks," Antonia gruffed out receiving five nods. One Weasley girl was still determined, the little true Gryffindor.

"Then we'll _crawl _underneath it. Anything to keep out of sight from the _other _You-Know-Who."

The girls scoffed, Antonia the hardest. "Yeah, like _that _won't take an eternity. It'd be dawn by the time we've made it to the Main Hall...I'm out."

Antonia departed the common area and portrait and descended the stairs, along with the others. It wasn't like they were the only ones leaving; people from every House could be seen exiting their rightful portraits and descending a staircase to head to one place or another. Surely Filch couldn't catch them all.

And the girls had made it outside indeed. There were a few carriages outdoors for use and Parvati had managed to find a chauffeur that would direct the horses to the village at this hour.

Once in Hogsmeade, the girls chipped in their pay for the fare and journeyed out to the pub. Many other students were all geared up and parading into the party as well, so their 'sneaking out' didn't seem like _such _a crime.

Inside, the ceiling lights were dimmed and old fashioned folk music was playing. Nearly every table or booth was full, though there were plenty of stools open at the counter, so the ladies took their seats there.

The Patil twins didn't remain seated for too long, for they were both eager to hit the dance area and find a couple of charming lads to partner up with. Antonia sat in between Ginny and Hermione while Luna had strayed out to the final seat, away from them all, again in her own blissful world, it seemed.

After the clock's minute hand had made a good dozen rounds, Ginny spotted her boyfriend entering with a couple of his friends and was quick to excuse herself to join him. The two watched as she approached him lovingly and planted a kiss on his lips.

"And unless Luna gets her lil' bum over here, it's just you and I, huh?" Antonia asked the girl seated aside her.

"It would appear so...I should have stayed back at Hogwarts and studied for the assessment I have in arithmancy tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to say that I _almost _agree with you, Hermione," Antonia murmured back sadly. Suddenly, the young and attractive bartender approached Antonia and put "The usual?" She nodded in turn. He then looked at Hermione.

"Would you like anything?" he asked.

"Oh, just an ice water, thank you," she replied frivolously.

Once he was out of their view, Hermione leaned in and whispered "The usual?"

"Well, I come here often, you see, and-"

"Here ya go," the man interjected, setting her drinking down as well as Hermione's along with a wink.

"Thank you, Killian," Antonia chimed. She then dug through her purse to pay for the drink, but he ensured "I've got this, lovely."

Blushing, she allowed him to pay and mumbled another quick "Thank you!"

Again he was gone. Antonia then said "He's been flirting with me for quite some time, you know. I think he's cute and all, but I'm not certain whether or not I really want him getting into my knickers, _yet _anyway." She giggled at the end.

"Well, I'd hope not, Antonia. He looks _at least _ten years older than us," Hermione addressed with her usual concern evident.

"Ha, but I think that's for _me _to decide," she teasingly remarked, then moving on to sip her mysterious dark orange beverage.

"What is that?" Hermione asked sternly.

"Oh, just some pumpkin juice with a slight mixture of rum," she admitted with no hesitation, astounding the bookworm greatly.

"But—Doesn't he know you're still _underage_?"

"He he, no, actually. He _thinks _I'm eighteen. Let's just say that _a while back _I may have put a little, _harmless _spell on him to let him know how _old _I am."

"Antonia! What—shame on you! I can't believe you cursed someone into _thinking _you're of legal age! That...that is so wrong!" she scorned, with a bit of jealousy obvious in her voice towards the end.

"Relax, Mione, jeez, would you like me to do him for you too?"

"You can't be serious-"

"Obliviate," Antonia whispered whilst directing her wand towards him.

"What in God's name are you doing?!" Hermione spat.

"There, now he thinks we're both _adults_, happy?"

"No! No, I'm not! I-I'm _appalled _at such a rudimentary course of action! I-"

"Killian! My friend here would like some butterbeer with a hint of brandy!"

All she heard from her friend beside her was a sharp gasp. Killian handed her her fancy drink with no questions asked.

"Antonia, I can't believe you...did that."

"You'll thank me later. Now, drink up."

With that, Hermione could only take slow and regretful sips, really making her glass last, unlike Antonia.

…

"It's nearly midnight! We should be getting back."

"Just _one _more daiquiri, Mione!"

"Lord, you've had quite enough already! We have _classes _tomorrow, remember?"

"Hmph, perhaps _you _do. I think I'm going to have to pass."

With wide-eyes and an agape façade, Hermione said "You've picked up a nasty habit, you have. How long have you been doing this?"

"Doing _wha_**_t_**?" she slurred.

"Drinking...coming here. Getting wasted."

The first frown of the night struck the semi miserable redhead, and she answered "Since just late last spring. After _He _died."

A sympathetic expression was gifted to the still seated girl. Hermione was on her feet and ready to leave, while Antonia still had some 'party' left in her, which may have included another set of alcoholic beverages.

"Antonia, I—_we all_, understand the difficulties of your loss, but intoxicating yourself isn't going to benefit you. You're only going to wreck yourself-"

"Stop it! You—you don't know! You don't _understand _what it feels like! I-I've been through indefinite, indwelling _hell _for the past five fucking months because that psychotic _cunt _killed the only family I had left!"

"Please, Antonia, just come along back with me-"

"You go. I'm staying, Hermione."

"And just how _hammered _do you plan on getting, then?! You're too young to be consuming _so much _alcohol, Antonia! You're going to drown out your brain cells!"

With the solemnest of expressions, she in turn mumbled "Just gotta hit the right patch of nerves and all will be well."

Speechless, Hermione turned on her heels, leaving the inebriated girl to herself. She sighed gruffly to herself and glued her eyes to the tablespoon of lite alcohol that her friend had left in her glass. Of course, Hermione was never much of a drinker, for she had felt that getting a buzz would "Hinder" with her studies, the studious extraordinaire.

Really, Antonia decided that she'd had enough for the night, not because she had classes the next morning, but because she was nearly cockeyed drunk. She hadn't stood in nearly two hours, and she had to urinate like there was no tomorrow.

'_Okay, you can do this,' _she had to tell herself before stepping down from the stool. Once on the ground, she felt the tingling sensation in her legs go wild, and she damn nearly stumbled. Luckily, someone had caught her fall.

While sluggishly leaning into her captor, she laughingly said "Thanks, I'm sorry. I'm sort of feeling a tad dizzy at the moment-"

"Yeah, I can tell."

Great Scott, she knew that voice!

She horrifically whipped her head up to look him straight in the eyes. Fury coursed through her bloodstream in an instant.

"_Malfoy!_"

She took a crooked step back and fiercely backhanded him. "Off and away, you vile prick!"

Rolling his eyes and sardonically holding his hot cheek, he scanned the bar whilst muttering "Where's a closet? I need to drag you off to someplace private and teach you a lesson _yet again_."

"I think not!" she chortled. "We're out in _public_, you damn fool! Hit me here and your arse is in trouble," she daunted on, proud of herself for being invulnerable in his presence for the first time in a while.

He shot daggers in her face at that. She had never seen him so livid. His gray eyes looked like they went a shade darker and he barred his slightly crooked teeth.

He then leant in and whispered "The next time we're alone, I shall strip you bare and use a motherfucking _riding crop _on your little bare arse with you spread submissively over my lap."

She was then shoved roughly into the counter before he stormed off. She wasn't about to let him win this one that easily. With drunken self-authority, she hollered "I know what you're up to, Malfoy! It won't be soon before long before you're caught and thrown into a cell with your daddy! Then both your arse's will be _in _for it!"

He stopped dead in his tracks by the entrance. Without turning around entirely to face her, he cocked his head to the right in her direction and smirked. Oh, how delightfully hammered she must have been to produce such a _hazardously _bold move. The clueless bint. Didn't she know what she was getting herself into?

He chuckled darkly to himself before loudly snarling "That the best you've got, Potter? Just more cheap insultery regarding my father? Don't you think that's getting a tad old by now?"

"No, but _Luscious' _bum is probably looking it, judging how much cock its been taking."

She had gotten a rise out of some of the people around her with that one. She giggled lightly to herself, for being drunk as she was and still capable of standing up for herself effectively. Draco then began to laugh to himself, but not because he was amused.

He turned aggressively on his heels and confronted the proud young woman with his most forceful blow yet. The hit had knocked her clean off her stool and down to the cement floor. She squealed out in pain once crashing down to the ground with a rough thud. Her drunken daze prevented her from getting back up to her feet quickly, thereby leaving her meek to face the peaking adversary from above. Her vision was blurred due to immense intoxication and she was quite weak along with that.

"Get up," Draco ordered coldly.

She flailed her arms at him in a sloppy and feeble attempt to throw him off. "Go away! Shoo, M-Malfoy! I'm too damn tired to fight with you right now," she muttered.

He knelt down and took her chin in his hand and gripped tenaciously. "I want an _apology _first you bitch."

She spat in his face, fending him off little. "Piss off."

He only tightened his hold on her and warned "If you don't start behaving yourself this instant, you're going to be in for a torturous night, love."

She looked him daringly in the eyes and replied "So be it. You've already degraded me in every way possible. What else could you possibly do to me?"

Her inability to think clearly as well as think through what she was going to say before ruthlessly blurting out was only endangering her more by the second. Little did she realize she was the lamb and he was the lion in this situation. Or rather, perhaps he was the large and venomous python and she was the meager little mouse.

He took hold of her dress and yanked her up along with him in one vicious tug. "You're coming with me."

"Hell no!"

"Hey, man, I think you need to leave the girl alone."

Draco spun around to face a stouter man somewhere in his early twenties. His face contorted into one of rage and he withdrew his wand, then held it against his cheek while jeering "_You _stay out of this or else I'll-"

"What? Tell your father?" Antonia finished.

He didn't reply and instead secured his grasp around her left wrist and promptly swayed for the door, dragging her along with him. The cool Fall air hit her face once the two were outside of the pub. She did attempt to pull her hand out of his hold, but didn't manage to free herself. He was fuming, she could tell.

"Hey, I left my purse inside, you dolt! Let me go! I need to get it!"

"You can get it later."

"No, Malfoy, someone might steal it!"

He groaned audibly and turned back around, bringing her along with him. "_I'll _get your fucking purse, Potter. Don't you think that you're going anywhere out of _my _sight."

He held the door open and mustered "Accio!" Her purse was flung at her in a matter of a few seconds from its spot on the floor at the counter. It hit her chest harshly, nearly knocking the wind out of her, then they were back on the gravel road instantly.

The town was busy with folk tonight, even at this hour. Antonia struggled to keep up with her captor's long and rapid strides. Her inebriated state and her sore feet could only allow so much swift agility, not to mention she was wearing her tallest heels as well. She felt that she was going to stumble at any given moment.

"Would you quit jerking me around like I'm some goddamn dog and cut this shit out?! I need to get back to the school!"

"I don't think so, Potter. You need to be _disciplined_ after tonight's nasty little hijinks."

"You're kidnapping me! I hope you realize that! I-I can scream anytime I like!"

"So do it then."

An adamant Gryffindor she was, and a challenge she always accepted. She took in a heap of air and let out a mere squeak before she was reeled around the corner of an antique shop, slammed against the freezing brick walling and treated with a lengthy, cool hand, crammed painfully against her lips.

"That's what I thought! Now, I'm going to give you a _fair warning _now, Potter. If those daunting lips of yours don't stay shut for the remainder of the trip, then I'll have to use the bloody langlock hex on you, understood?"

"Where are you planning to take me?"

"An old, abandoned shack just around the corner. We'll need to cut through some woods to get there, now come on-"

"Wait a minute now-"

He strode again bringing her with him. "Why are you taking me there?!" she asserted, though she knew deep down exactly what he was planning. He didn't respond.

"Fucking hell, Draco! Let me go this instant!"

They sped down a barren trail just past Dervish and Banges. They were now away from all the commotion of High Street and scurrying down a secluded alleyway, onwards to some lone, rickety shed where she was going to be likely forced to allow him to ravish her in any way he pleased on the dusty floorboards. The thought made her quiver internally, but she knew well that he had quite a bit of power over her, especially when in this manner.

"Alright, I'm sorry for insulting you and your _precious _father, now let me be!"

"I don't want to hear any mentionings of my father _again_, Potter!"

"Ooh, bite me!"

With his ominous, cunning ambition, he agreed to do just that. He rammed her into the nearest oak tree and held her in her place with both his hands locked around her upper arms. She gasped out at his sudden move, then did so again when she felt his tongue graze along the right side of her neck. She frailly retaliated for the umpteenth time, again getting nowhere on her part. She winced and kneaded her palms against his chest once he bit into the delicate flesh on her neck. She had seen those gnarly marks from time to time on her roommates' necks and shoulders in her dorm room, but she herself had never received a lovebite.

"M-M-Mal-"

"What'd I tell you?" he growled. "You're going to start calling me by my _first _name, and you're going to do it respectively too."

She fell flaccid against the cool bark of the tree and closed her eyes to envision the boy ravenously assaulting her neck to be _anyone _else. She tried her current lovelorned crush Remus, but that didn't seem possible. Draco differed far too greatly. His scent, his feel, his demeanor, his appearance, his age, even his height, for her love interest was both taller than him and around twenty years their senior.

An uncertain amount of minutes ticked on with her allowance of Draco's advancements. So far, he'd only just begun by devouring each side of her neck, then he moved on to kiss her full on the lips with her hesitant obligation. She knew his actions would only escalate from there on if she didn't do something quickly. He'd either take her right there behind the oak in the grass or he'd drag her off to that dreadful shack in which they'd undergo rough and nonconsensual intercourse.

She despised this boy with her entire being, so she wouldn't settle nicely for either.

She had go forth with that one instigation that would get the best of him every time.

"You should really watch yourself, Draco. I'm only warning you because soon enough your behaviors will become obvious enough for the staff to notice, and then before you know it, you'll be handcuffed to a metal seat at the Ministry, then sentenced to life in Azkaban along with Blondie."

He stopped sucking on the sensitive area of her collarbone and his hands ceased their passionate rubbing against her pert backside. His mouth latched onto her left ear and hot pants hit her lobe along with another threat.

"Mention my father again, Potter."

"You're _almost _as pathetic as him."

And she'd made him snap. He dug his trimmed nails into her shoulder blades and jerked her away from the tree, into his arms and off her feet. He carried the drunken girl through piles of colorful and crunchy leaves further into the forest. He halted at the top of a hill directly underneath a full moon.

"As theoretically beneath me as you are, Potter, I must say that when the time comes that you are _literally_ thralled under my rule, which will be in _very short time _by the way, then you will be scarred _mentally _as well."

He then combed her hair out of the way from the faded scar on her forehead and ran his tongue along it while prying his fingers against the pantyhose covering her womanhood. He then grumbled "See you later, _Potter_," before tossing her down the steep hill.

She could do little to steady her tumble, for she was too weak both physically and mentally to use any more of her long-gone strength. When she did eventually come to a rough halt at the bottom of the hill, she sorely rose to her feet and gazed upwards to thankfully see that the bastard had been out of sight. She leant against a willow in an attempt to rid her profuse dizziness. The loads of alcohol she'd consumed along with the rest of that night's escapades had left her in a sickly, messy state.

After spending what could have been five minutes crying intensely, she took slow and sturdy steps back up the hill, only to double over and vomit halfway up.

This was perhaps the utmost worst Hallows Eve of her life.

* * *

_A/n: _

_Disclaimer: all rights to J.K. Rowling and others who are not me, minus my OC Antonia._

I give my thanks to **redhotreader**, **bageltiger**, **Guest**, **Guest**,** Forevermore** and **Guest** :) I adore the support!

*Happy Independence Day to fellow Americans and have a lovely weekend to the rest of you!

~JLM


	9. Calamity

**Chapter Nine: Calamity**

'_Blast!'_

She stumbled over her own drastically aching feet for the thousandth time in less than an hour. She had to admit that she hadn't been _this _hammered since the night after Sirius' death. It had turned out that a night out that was supposed to be fun turned out to be quite the contrary. In fact, at this moment she had felt incredibly miserable.

Upon rising up from nature's carpet yet again, she decided that it would probably be best to just remove her pumps, regardless of the broken glass bottles and incisive shards that littered the streets of Hogsmeade. The streets were dimly lit by the lampposts alongside the sidewalks on either side of the street she was trudging down. The shops and pubs were still active though the excitement had died down slightly over the past few hours.

She was ignorant to the current time, and didn't have the courage to ask someone around her what it was. She felt broken down, desolate and hollowed out. She couldn't understand why she always let him go so far with her. The peppery taste of his mouth still swished around in her own, and it only made her want to vomit some more. Lord, he was repulsive. The very sight of him always made her insides tighten up with odium. Why had he just started to act so strangely towards her?

Then again, had he really _just _started?

Thinking back to earlier years, he had seemed to show his true colors towards her, though always in provocative and poorly discreet ways, always ending his statements with a roughly spat "_Potter._"

For the moment, she had to stop thinking about the abusive prat and concentrate on getting back to the school. She was very fortunate to see a few late-duty carriages left so she could make it back to the school without having to walk miles throughout the remainder of the chilly night. She was just a short distance from a ride with just a few open seats available when she came to a horrific realization.

Her hands were not holding one of the money-wielding possessions she had with her earlier.

Just when she thought her luck couldn't possibly get any worse, she discerned that she had left her purse at the bottom of the hill.

"**_Bloody fuckin' hell!_**"

...

It must have been nearly four o'clock in the morning by the time she had made it back to Hogwarts. She had no choice but to ride along with a pack of heavily intoxicated Slytherins, all of whom she hardly knew except for Crabbe and Goyle. She was crammed in between the two moronic purebloods, forced to tolerate their grabby gestures and unbefitting advances on her, luckily only going as far as Goyle unhooking one of her bra fastenings before he was rewarded with a sharp backhand across the face. At least she could thank her lucky stars that Draco was not aboard.

Upon arrival, she fled out of the carriage and bolted for the entrance. She didn't even care whether or not the goddamn caretaker would catch her. She had no damns left to give.

* * *

_Reminisce: September 1st of 1991_

The castle's interior had captivated and amazed the young witch just the same as the exterior of the building had. Everything from the gigantic doorway to the wide and cemented staircase had thoroughly exceeded the auburn-haired girl's expectations.

She knew this 'Hogwarts' school that taught 'witchcraft and wizardry' had to be of some oddities and abstractions that she never knew of in her first ten years of life. Yet, she didn't expect anything as extraordinary as this. In fact, she had been set to start the fifth grade at her public school, Portsworth Elementary. And there, just like in all of the other previous grades, she would have been harassed by her cousin and his gang of bully comrades and teased by the other female classmates for being mousy and unusual.

Now it seemed that her outcome this year had made a turn for the better. She could start fresh. Others would accept her for who she was, considering they were all capable of doing the exact same things that she could do. Magic was very real, peculiar as that may have seemed, and young Antonia was not unhappy about it.

Antonia was paying close attention to the elderly lady wearing a forest green cloak and a traditional witch's hat atop her head who called herself 'Professor McGonagall'. She wanted to know all she could about Hogwarts, and that included its guidelines and what there was to know about these so called 'Houses'. She eagerly kept her ears open for the woman before her, even choosing not to laugh at the boy who called out "Trevor!" and made a mad dash for his toad, awkwardly interrupting the hostess.

Once the lady was gone, a blond lad a ways to her left suddenly projected "It's true then! Antonia Potter has come to Hogwarts."

She blushed at the newfound attention she was receiving, and she was presented with gasps and shocked mumblings over handshakes and warm smiles.

Right then, the same boy strayed casually in front of her, smirking and holding out his hand. She recognized this boy from one of the book shops in Diagon Alley. He gave off an impression of immense arrogance and prejudice against muggle borns, as he had said for himself, and that had bothered the kindly hearted Antonia straight away.

"This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." He smiled and looked right into her eyes. "And I'm Malfoy. _Draco _Malfoy."

Light scoffing could be heard from directly aside, causing the cocky youngster to give Antonia's new ginger-haired friend a look of pure detestation.

"Think my name's _funny _do you? Like I need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe...you must be a Weasley."

'_What a little shit,' _Antonia couldn't help but think before she was his attention again. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the _wrong _sort." He again averted his reference to her redheaded acquaintance.

"_I _can help you there." His hand went up again, as if proposing a deal of some sort. Frankly, the only thing she could imagine doing with that hand of his was magically forcing him to shove it deep up his tightarse. And she may have even considered doing that for real had she been currently aware of the imperius curse.

She stared at his hand only a little while longer, not contemplating whether or not she was going to shake it, but rather how she was going to turn down his un-dignifying offer. For the time being, she decided to just keep her reply simple, yet forthright.

"I think I can tell the _wrong _sort for myself, thank you very much."

…

And at that moment, she had earned herself a long-term enemy, who was now unhealthily infatuated with her. Sometimes, she wondered what would have happened if she _had _shaken his hand that fateful evening five years earlier. Well, chances were she would have joined the Slytherins and never have even been friends with Ron or Hermione, or really any of the other marvelous Gryffindors she knew. She may have grown cold and, God forbid, snooty, just like the majority of the Slytherin House, particularly including the potential Death Eater himself.

She'd likely be all whored-out; her best friends being Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode for Christ's sake. She'd be Draco's willing girlfriend and proud sex slave. Why, they'd probably be banging away on the Astronomy Tower at that very moment—had she shaken that damned hand of his that night.

Here she was now, making her way up the Main Hall's wide staircase alone, frigid, unbelievably sore, and exhausted. She could hardly maintain a straight line during the ascendance. Her heels were sloppily dangling in the rims of her fingers in her left hand, while her right hand supported the railing to the side on the wall, for she most certainly required the extra support after that wild night out.

She had just barely reached the eleventh step when she heard a grunt from down below. And boy, had it scared the bejesus out of her. She paused and grumbled a handful of curses to herself before reluctantly turning around to see the creepy caretaker and his hideous feline.

"And _where _have we been tonight, darling?" he crooned mockingly, a lit torch held firmly in one hand while his cat was cradled dotingly in the other.

"None of your damned business," she frustratingly snapped back, then went on to indifferently climb the stairs, leaving him likely astounded at her retort.

"Come again, love? Have you _forgotten _who I am?!" he hollered from his spot down below.

"Oh, of course not, Argus. Who could forget a man of your insolence? Of your ghastly appearance and ugly demeanor? And who could believe that that _dick _of yours gets handled by ladies on a frequent basis?" she decided to teasingly add in, really risking the severity of her inevitable and fast-upcoming punishment by the lot.

She had to smirk while watching his expression divert to one of pure vexation. His cataracts could be seen more lucidly and his entire being seemed to shake, though that may have just been Antonia's still prevalent drunkenness clouding her perception.

"What did you just say?!"

"Can't handle an insult, old man?! I told ya to go fuck yourself, you worthless pile of nargle defecation!"

"Oh, you wait until the Headmaster hears about this!"

He began to storm up the flight, causing Antonia to fumble around the contents of her purse and obtain her wand. From five or so steps higher, she aimed her wand at him and hoarsely mustered "Obliviate!"

She then stepped down a few steps and stated "You saw _nothing!_"

With that, she hurried back up the stairs and sped for her dorm.

She collapsed onto her bed once she was back in her safe haven. As assumed, her roommates were all tucked away into their beds already, except Padma, who could've very well been spending the night with some gentleman she met back at the pub, for she did hold a tendency for being promiscuous.

Antonia hadn't even bothered to remove her dress or wash off her smeared makeup. She needed rest and she needed it now, anything to get her head to _just stop spinning_.

…

"Antonia!"

She stirred slightly at the calling of her name, but didn't fully awaken until she heard "Antonia! You need to wake up!"

Her eyes shot open only to reclose at the brashly sunlit room that made them burn terribly. Hermione, fully dressed in her proper school attire, stood by her bed. Antonia turned over and groaned lightly to herself, feeling the full and brutal effects of a hangover that had decided to settle in.

"I was going to try to awaken you before breakfast, but you were far too out of it. But we have class in twenty minutes now, so-"

"Hermione, I can't."

"Well, I _told you _that you shouldn't have stayed out so late last night! This is the consequence!"

"Don't berate me…" she moaned, with her face smashed into her mascara-stained pillow.

"How late did you stay out?"

"...Mm, I think I..._ow_, returned at around four or so."

"Good Lord! Ugh, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"Do you have any Tylenol?"

Hermione sighed and went to dig around in her dresser for her bottle of muggle pain relievers. She handed the ill girl glued to her mattress the bottle and told her that she'd be back with a glass of water. She was already out the door before Antonia could request that she'd prefer a mug of steamy coffee. She fished around in her purse that was carelessly tossed next to her bedside dresser not many hours earlier. She retrieved her wand and mumbled a quick charm to close the curtains, for the sunlight was only intensifying her migraine.

She didn't want to fall back asleep; she just wanted to lay and rest. She was thankful that Hermione was courteous enough to travel to all of her classes for her and excuse her for being absent. She just hoped that she wouldn't be _required _to stay at the infirmary, for she strongly favored the comfort of her own mattress and privacy of her dorm. Not to mention the hospital wing was always so damn bright, and light was really the last thing her sore eyes and aching head needed at the time.

Five minutes had gone by until Hermione returned with her water. Once she set it down on her nightstand, Antonia jokingly said "Bring any chianti I can mix in there?"

She giggled to herself whereas Hermione gave her a dour look.

"Antonia...I hate to seem pious, but I have to tell you that you may have a drinking problem…"

She laughed. "Oh, Hermione, don't be pitiful!"

"No, I'm _serious_, Antonia. Look up at me."

She rolled her eyes before meeting her green hues with her friend's light brown. "You've picked up some alcoholic tendencies since Sirius' death. You've been isolating yourself from Ginny, Ron and I as well. We've all noticed, Antonia. What you're doing is harming you in ways you fail to recognize, but only because you've been blinded by grief. I want to help you, Antonia-"

"Shut up. I'm just fine, Hermione. You're all mistaken."

"No, Antonia, listen to me. If you don't get help soon, then I'm afraid you'll fall into a perpetual depression-"

"And who cares if I do? Let's wait and see what occurs when you lose someone dear to you, hon! I-I cannot even _express _how-how painful it is!"

"I know that. I understand what you're saying, but I can still help you if you'll just allow me."

Antonia rolled over to face the other side of the room. She had tried to keep it all a secret, but she must have been acting far too obvious. She reckoned that it would only be a matter of time before her friends discovered her stash of booze that was still currently hidden away in the small cupboard out in the common room. Of course they'd all know who they all belonged to.

Clutching her sheet and reeling it further up her body, she grumbled "You should probably get to class, Hermione."

All that could be heard for the next few moments was the breathing between them. Hermione walked off towards the door and advised "Just get some rest," before leaving. Stress loomed through her brain thanks to her wise best student in their year's preaching. While she was well aware that she had a dire problem that could potentially plague her either soon or sometime in the future, she herself was insightful enough to know that more damage was absolutely the last thing she needed, right before getting raped by Malfoy and captured early-on by the Dark Lord.

* * *

_Reminisce: Aftermath to Sirius' death_

"ANTONIA! Come out _this instant _you lazy sloth! You've been cooped up in there for the past FOUR days!" her aunt roared through her door.

It had been just five days since the passing of her godfather. In four days and four nights since then, Antonia has locked herself away in her bedroom upstairs at the Dursley household. She has not eaten or drunken anything in that time, she has opened her eyes little, and she has seldomly changed her crouched position in the corner. She has not changed her clothing in the last one hundred and twelve hours. She has not laid down on her mattress, and she has not even taken a seat in her desk chair. The hard, wooden floor has become her nook, and she has been possessed by overwhelming gloom.

She also finds it incredibly effortless to pay no heed to the overly exuberant aunt.

"You listen here, young lady, if you do not come out of this room in _five _minutes, I'm going to have your uncle tear the godforsaken door down!"

Yes, that threat was quite tempting indeed, but not enough to provoke the somber girl to rise from her curled up posture and depart her space. She waited for her strict bitch of a guardian to stomp off back down the stairs. Her jean-clad knees were damp with her tears, and even beginning to sustain an odor from the constant wetness. She didn't care, however. The scent of mildew was the least of her worries. She was really becoming sore all over due to her lack of movement. Her muscles were just begging to be moved, but she felt that she needed to punish herself for letting _Her _off the hook.

Bellatrix.

Why hadn't she done it? She had her wand pointed straight at her! All she had to mumble was that one _simple _word. She would have avenged his murder for the love of God!

'_Maybe I could have done it if motherfucking Voldemort hadn't __**taunted** __me so...But...would Sirius have settled with that?'_

With that consideration, the tears began to flow wildly yet again. She fell to her side, still curled up into a fetal position, and she began to wail into her knees. She was crying so much that it was starting to hurt. Her voice was gone, her chest ached, her eyes must have been bloodshot at this point, her cheeks felt wrinkly from being drenched on the constant, and she felt extraordinarily malnourished and dehydrated.

In fact, she was weeping so much that nothing more could drip from her eyes than a few slight droplets at a time. Her lack of water had began to deteriorate her physical state. Eventually, she would not be able to shed tears at all.

She shuddered uncontrollably in her crumpled position on the floor. All she could see was that she closed her eyes and when she opened them. He was in her view. That fading smile of his before he slipped through the Veil. It was tearing her apart.

She relaxed from her bound position on the floor and laid on her side. Perhaps some sleep would distract her? She had to give it a go. It was only a matter of time before she would lose her mind entirely if she couldn't get the traumatic, reenacting visualizations of that night out of her head soon.

Her breathing steadied and she managed to make herself comfortable within a couple of minutes. She kept her eyes shut and did what she could physically to get her body to shut down and rest for a while. In these hectic four days, she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep either.

She was on the brink of drifting into an unconscious state, so close she was, until she heard a thunderous bang at her door that shook her wide-awake.

"POTTER! I don't care if it was your bloody _headmaster _who kicked the bucket! Your aunt and I refuse to allow you lounge around in that bloody room for all eternity! You're fast becoming a burden on the family!" Vernon shouted from outside.

Burden? _Dare _he!

"Go away!"

"If you don't open this door-"

"JESUS H. CHRIST!" she screamed while crookedly rising up from the floor. She marched for the locked door and threw it open.

"A _burden _you say? I have not _eaten _a single damn crumb in nearly _five days _you OAF! I have been in here, minding _my own _fricking business in fact! Completely out of your hairs'!"

A thick, purplish finger was nearly shoved into her face. She refused to meet her outraged uncle's eyes with her own, for they'd likely be crossed again in the same way that they always were when he was furious.

"We refuse to house a mindless _derelict_, Antonia! You best straighten up your act _and _attitude unless you'd like to take to the streets!"

"I just lost my _godfather _you pile of lard!"

His fisted, plump hand damn nearly went for that small nose of hers until Petunia managed to coax him enough to fend him off. At that moment, their doorbell rang from downstairs. The aunt scurried down to answer it while the uncle shot one last deathly look at the woeful girl before treading away. She sank down to the floor and yearned for the presence of someone who actually cared for her.

She decided to spend the next hour or so in the bathtub. Lord knew she probably stunk to the high heavens. She grabbed a gown and fresh underwear from her drawers and locked herself into the hallway bathroom and sat down inside of the tub with the virtually scorching jets pouring down on her. Her legs were crossed and her head was tilted forward. Maybe she could seek some shuteye in here.

Her solemnity was again interrupted by the aunt's curt knocking.

"Antonia! Hurry up! You've got a visitor!"

'_Ron and the twins?' _she wondered, for they were the only ones who knew exactly where her residence was located at the time.

Nonetheless, she hurriedly stood and scrubbed away at every square inch of her body with her strawberry splash body wash and shampooed her hair diligently. She then rinsed off and scampered out of the tub to dry herself off. She would have used a quick drying spell if she had brought her wand with her into the bathroom, but now she had no time to waste. The Dursley's were fairly stringent and would surely give the cold shoulder to anyone from the magical world, so Antonia feared that her guest would be in a rush to leave if Vernon and Petunia were giving them too much trouble.

Chances were, they were.

She patted her hair to the point of adequate dampness and quickly dressed herself before exiting the bath to skip down the stairs and see-

Remus.

She froze in her tracks. He was the last person she had expected to see. He was seated at the dining table with one leg crossed over the other and a Daily Prophet in his hands. Her cheeks went rosy once he noticed her. He did not appear too kempt himself. While he did sport different clothing from what he wore five days earlier, he was otherwise unshaven with dark circles under his eyes and evident frown marks on either side of his lips. He smirked upon seeing her.

"Antonia."

"R-Remus, I d-didn't know you were coming! Um-"

"Ah, I'm aware of just how _kindly _your aunt and uncle take to owls… He he, so I assumed that stopping by in person would've been a more suitable course to take."

She chuckled briefly along with him. She nervously combed her fingers through her damp tresses while standing at the kitchen's threshold. She noticed that Vernon and Petunia were nowhere in sight. She was thankful for that.

"So what brings you to Little Whinging, sir?" she asked him sweetly, though she was very concerned for his answer at the same time.

"I understand that you must be grieving tremendously, Antonia. I just wanted to see how you're….handling the death-"

"Please. Please don't say it."

Tears brimmed her eyes and she felt nauseated. Her plea was chock-full of grim indication, and Remus had picked up on that immediately, straight after her first 'please'. Of course he felt the exact same way, for he himself had just lost a best friend of the last twenty five or so years.

Rubbing the back of his neck in a slightly sheepish manner, he stated "We're holding a remembrance funeral for him in a few days. It will be held in Godric's Hollow. Would you like to attend? Or are you not feeling well enough to-"

"Oh my, _of course _I'm going!"

"I thought you'd respond as such."

"How is everyone else doing? Ron, Hermione...Neville?"

"Well, we're all doing what we can to...eh, thrive, my dear. It has been…" He paused to pinch the bridge of his nose, to most likely keep from crying. "Difficult, but with time, we all will heal, won't we?"

She eyed the tiles of the kitchen floor. "I don't know if I can give you an answer to that, Remus."

"Oh, come now, Antonia. He wouldn't want you to suffer like this."

"(_Sniff) _I just can't stop crying! It's...it's too much for me to handle right now."

She leant against the threshold and blinked back her tears. She whimpered silently to herself, causing her former professor to rise from his seat at the table and wrap his arms around her. She sobbed shamefully into his coat while he consoled her.

"It'll be alright, Antonia. We've just got to give it time, is all."

"Thank you, Remus," she softly murmured into his shoulder.

She had started calling him by his first name a while earlier sometime during her fourth year. She at first did it experimentally upon one of their meetings during a holiday break, but she allowed it to become a habit after he showed indifference to her addressing him as such on the first time.

While the two rocked gently back and forth in between the living room and the kitchen, a keen grunt sounded from the other room by the entrance.

"Would you take the girl out of here? She's done nothing but whine up in her bedroom for the past four days!" her Uncle Vernon remarked angrily.

Her heart fluttered at the prospect of leaving this miserable hellhole. She craved a little fresh air and maybe even a good meal.

Remus awkwardly unwrapped his arms from around her waist and took a step back, blushing almost as strongly as the young redheaded woman. He gave a curt nod to the uncle and waited for him to go on about his business.

"Mm, alright then...I think I should put on something more, eh, presentable," Antonia chimed abashedly. She fought the urge to plant her visitor a peck on the cheek before rushing back upstairs to change into one of her best camisoles with a nice pair of jeans.

It was around that time when Antonia began developing feelings for the older man. A part of her knew it was wrong, but the majority of her being didn't really care. She couldn't help who she fell for. If her soul was attracted to men in their mid thirties with scruffy five o'clock shadows and light brown uncombed hair and crystalline blue eyes, then so be it. She was pushing the age of consent in England anyways. One characteristic that fascinated her about him in particular was his condition of lycanthropy. Though this 'disorder' of his was a large downfall on his behalf, she rather thought it quite astonishing. Beautiful, even. She did feel sorry for him, of course, but she admired his simpatico traits, and found that they overrode his 'dangerous' illness.

Really, she had always been attracted to _older _guys. She recalled her crush on _Billy Idol _from age thirteen as well as _Jon Bon Jovi _and _Johnny Depp _from her preteen to early adolescent years. She saw no real crime in her feelings. It wasn't like she was hurting anyone, was it? While all of the other girls her age wanted to be escorted to the Yule Ball by Victor Krum or Cedric Diggory, she'd fantasized about Igor Karkaroff's masculine hands resting at her sides over Finnigan's. With a more _mature _mind comes more _sophisticated _desires, she presumed.

She was hasty with dressing herself, for she didn't want to hang around any longer in this grown pit of hell that her bedroom had become in those four days. She needed to get out of the house altogether.

Not willing to waste too much time or leave Remus downstairs alone with the dastardly Dursley's, she applied some black, charcoal-like eyeliner and skipped the shadow and mascara. She pulled on a burgundy top with a pair of _Calvin Klein _jeans and then grabbed her favorite flats before hurrying back down to the first floor and grabbing Remus' hand and leading him out the front door.

"Ah, it is SPLENDID getting out of that hellhole!" Antonia huffed enthusiastically once the two were outdoors.

"Antonia, is what your uncle said true?"

"Oh, what? That I've been a grieving, pissing and moaning mess for the past four or so days?"

"At least tell me that you've _eaten _something."

"Does it matter, _professor_?"

He took a step before her and halted her at the end of her own driveway. "Yes, Antonia, it _does _matter." He shot her a look of pure empathy. "And very much so. I will not allow you to waste away all due to Sirius' death. Tragic and sudden as it was, it does not excuse you to let yourself go. If you continue to behave in a careless manner then you're bound to slip into a deep and incurable depression."

"I loved that man! He meant the _world _to me, Remus!" she cried out while leaning against Vernon's car. "Finally, after _years _of _their _bullshit, came along a man who unconditionally and sincerely gave a _damn _for my sake! And not even _months _ago was I sure that it would take no more than one—no more than a _single _fucking plea before he were to _let _me move in with him! It was all going to work out so nicely!"

"Antonia-"

"We were going to be a real family!"

"Jesus, Antonia, you already _have _family!"

"You mean _them_?!" she darkly chortled while nodding her head off towards the house. "If you're referring to the bloody _Dursley's_, then you're out of your head-"

"_No_." He cupped his hands around her face and forced her to look him directly in the eyes. "Me."

A few beats passed with no musterings but the breathing between them.

"Me, your friends, the Weasleys, Albus, Hagrid, Moody, all of us, Antonia. And as for Sirius, you know he'll always have a place in your heart."

He kept his hands gently grasped at her cheeks just a bit longer before resting them on her shoulders. Antonia had to admire the thought that just maybe he wasn't too willing to remove his hands from her body.

She smiled shyly and said "Thank you for the corny encouragement, Moony. Now, please get me out of here."

Without removing his eyes from hers, he withdrew his wand and suggested "Honeydukes sound satisfying?"

"How about The Leaky Cauldron?" she asked.

"First we're going someplace for lunch, my dear. You must be famished."

Before they apparated off, she admitted "Maybe a little…"

* * *

A/n:

Okay, I am loving all the reviews! Your opinions and thoughts make for great motivation :)

There is one thing I'd like to clear up at this point. This is not a spoiler for future chapters, just an understatement for the overall story. Antonia holds purely loathsome revolt for Draco. By this, I mean she absolutely hates him to a crisp. She is disgusted by his arrogance, cruel nature, and his other more unfavorable characteristics.

As mentioned, Antonia has her heart set on Remus Lupin (who yes, is quite a bit older than she is, but she really doesn't see this as a problem). It is unknown yet whether or not he returns the feelings, for that will be revealed in a later chapter.

Now, Draco (obviously) feels intensely for Antonia, yet he does despise her at the same time (this is also clear, I'd hope). He feels remorseful over the fact that he feels this way for someone who's supposed to be his enemy, but can't find it in himself to ignore his personal, sick and twisted desires, hence, his lucid display of dominance over her.

The one emotion they do feel for one another would be absolute, unequivocal anguish, the only difference being Draco accompanies lust and (maybe a little love?) with his feelings of profound dislike...so yeah.

But anyway, thank you for reading and sticking to the story, and more to come soon.

~JLM


	10. The Hog's Head

**Chapter Ten: The Hog's Head**

She wouldn't have even been in such a lax condition had she not plastered herself as she did. Antonia was beginning to behave like a forty year old woman with no hint of shame left. If getting drunk and skipping class was how she was handling her turmoils now, then she was hesitant to imagine just how she would even make it through her future training to be an auror.

'_I need to pull my act together, and soon,' _she thought. '_And I can start by getting my sluggish bum out of this bed.' _

Every muscle on her neglected body twinged powerfully upon rising from her mattress. She must have been laying down for at least ten hours. She glanced at the clock to the right of Hermione's bed and read the time to be 5:56 in the afternoon.

'_Good Lord...' _she mused. She had slept through a large chunk of that day, missing both breakfast and lunch, and now had four minutes until the start of dinner. She rushed to her wardrobe to pick out an outfit, but then stopped.

'_Oh, why bother?' _she thought with a sigh that seemed to echo in her mind. '_I'm not even hungry anyways...'_

She collapsed back down onto her bed and rolled onto her stomach. With her headache nearly gone, she didn't want to rest any longer. At the same time, she didn't really want to face anyone else at the moment. They would have too many questions for her, and she was in no mood for answering.

There were so many times when she yearned for a normal life. She regretted Hagrid's first visit to her that night on her eleventh birthday in that shack that was supposed to qualify for a 'safe house'. She perhaps could have lived without a wand and an education at a school that specifies in the teachings of magic.

And really, just how horrible would her life have been if she had lived the average person's life in the muggle world? Where she would have been safe, though bullied, dull, practically invisible, bored on the daily, risking absolutely nothing; just wholesome normality…

'_Nevermind.'_

…

She must have drifted off again for another hour or so, for she awoke suddenly to see that her room was darkening and the clock read 7:04. She leant up, feeling beyond well-rested. She was a tad shocked to acknowledge that she had been alone all day. No one had even come to check on her in hours.

Not even Hermione.

'_Where the hell is everyone?'_

She then remembered that it was Friday night, and surely everyone was out having fun somewhere. She slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a white V-necked shirt with long sleeves then grabbed her purse. She had all the same rights as them to have a good time.

* * *

For reasons she couldn't quite fathom herself, she decided to return to Hogsmeade that evening. She was not headed to The Three Broomsticks tonight, however, but rather the other pub in town, the Hog's Head, regardless of its much eerier status.

She decided that she would try to sneak out in avoidance of confronting any of the girls, Neville, or Ron, because she was acting shady enough as it was, and if she were to tell them that she was going out into town to get hammered yet again, they'd put a stop to it for certain.

And Antonia just couldn't have that occur.

Besides, she was going to thoroughly _limit _herself tonight. No more than _three _drinks, she would promise to herself. She had just made it through the batch of Gryffindors hoarded around the fireplace in the common room before she heard someone call after her.

"Hey, Antonia!"

'_Ah, fuck.'_

She slowly turned to see Neville Longbottom standing by a punch bowl, waving kindly at her and smiling compliantly. Oh, so this wouldn't and couldn't be too bad..

She flashed him a large and toothy grin and took a single step through the portrait, but again paused when he hollered "Hey, wait!"

'_Lord...'_

He trotted up to meet her, taking her slightly aback when he embraced her once within close proximity.

"I haven't seen a lot of you around lately. Is everything going alright for you?"

While returning the gesture and patting him on the back quickly, she listlessly answered "Good enough, I reckon."

He pulled away and opinionated "That didn't sound too lively."

Shrugging, she complied "Well, I guess I'm just not feeling as such at the moment, Neville. I've been a tad blue lately. You know, I'm still upset over…"

She huffed and found that she couldn't bring herself to finish that sentence. Neville took the message and nodded understandingly.

"Yeah, _that _hit us all pretty hard, eh? Well, where are ya off to?"

Antonia had to appreciate his effort to change the topic. She weighed her options at that moment. She could have excused that she was off to the library, or she could be truthful. Neville just may have been the most candid, trustworthy and warmhearted bloke she knew, so of course she found difficulty in lying straight to his face. Doing so would only make her feel...dirty.

"...Um, I was going to the Hog's Head, actually."

'_Damn!'_

A look of disbelief struck him at that moment. "Oh? Don't you think that The Three Broomsticks is better? Why, it's more sanitary and the beverages are tastier, not to mention they have a slight tendency to settle better in the gullet than what I've helped myself to in the Hog's-"

"No! Um..no, Neville. I just so happened to go there last night, so I, um, wanted to try elsewhere this evening."

'_Smooth.'_

"I see...Would you like me to join you?"

"Err…"

She had to think fast. Not that she would have ever minded the company of such a sweet lad, but she wasn't quite ready to confess her nasty drinking habits to him yet. She was keeping her fingers crossed that so far Hermione was the only one who knew of her problem. She wasn't and had never been much of a gossip, so Antonia could safely assume that she was keeping her shameful secret _a _secret.

A figurative light bulb had risen at that moment.

"My, I've left my galleons in my velvet wallet up in my dorm...would you go and get it? I'll wait right here."

"Um, sure, yeah, I-I'll be back in a minute," he gave in awkwardly before taking off in the other direction. She was performing her greatest bitch-move of the year so far, but she really had no other choice. She would definitely regret her course of action in the latter, certainly, but for now she wanted to focus on getting back to Hogsmeade without boarding with any Slytherins, especially a gruesome particular three in her year.

The halls were still rampant with students, and curfew was not yet enforced, so she luckily didn't need to fret about running into the git of a caretaker, at least not until later that night whenever she were to return.

She got into a carriage compact with seemingly Hufflepuffs and perhaps a few Ravenclaws, just as she preferred. Midway to her destination, she began to feel questionable about her venturing. Wouldn't it have been more rational to just remain at Hogwarts, find her friends and spend time with them? Would it _kill her _to recline alcohol for one night?

Then again, she had to recall that Hermione had made no effort to come back to their dorm all day long, not to awaken her for lunch, not to give her all of her homework, (_if _she even bothered collecting it, that was) not to see if she was even alright. It was easy to imagine that Hermione may have not cared for her as much as she thought given the circumstances.

Well, at least she didn't have to ponder anything while soaking her system out with her bittersweet friend, alchy. Oh, did she dread the after effects of it all as time went on, however. It had taken all morning _and _afternoon for the panging inside of her skull to fade.

'_I do it to forget,' _she excused mentally, just as she had done many times before in that year alone. She continuously told herself this all the way through the village, right up until she reached the grim pub at the end one of the streets that happened to be missing a sign of indication.

She had to take in a few jagged breaths before entering, for the Inn itself had always given her the willies. That amputated head of a hog that was mounted above the entrance inside of the place gave her chilly inklings too she reasoned.

Once indoors, she felt a warm draft spank her face. A fire was aglow in the main entrance. She was relieved that the place with warm, from just coming in from breezy thirty five degree weather. The floor was comprised of chipped, moldy boards, many holes and cracks. All she could smell was the burning wood and a trace of cinnamon? in the air. The overall atmosphere proved to be exquisite in her perspective, even surpassing the tranquility of The Three Broomsticks, though only because there were fewer people about. Antonia had never been one for large crowds.

Up in front of the Inn was a counter for checking in when villagers needed to stay a night, and judging the creaking staircase, rusty doorknobs and even scampering rats she had seen already whilst stepping no more than ten feet into the pub, she hoped that she'd _never _have to check out a room for use. She'd likely leave with some sort of disease anyways.

Down the main area and to the left was the entrance to the bar. She was eager albeit wary to enter the area. The last time she came here was nearly a year earlier with her potential recruits for the league she and her closest friends called 'Dumbledore's Army'. While with around twenty two people tagging along into this slum of a place was not so nerve wracking, Antonia felt that waltzing in here alone was quite the contrary. She felt bloodshot eyes fall on her once she was straight through the swinging doors of the pub area. She guessed that the customers' average age group was around forty to fifty. She also knew that this place was regularly a hang-out for dark wizards. Rumor even had it that on occasion a troll, goblin or ogre may stroll in for a beer. She could only pray that tonight would not be one of those nights.

She thanked herself for not dressing up too sexy like she usually would have done when going out somewhere. Her grayish sweats and satin shirt were lovely, though lacking in allure. The floorboards groaned lightly with each step she took, making her one hundred and twenty three pounds sound like two hundred.

The creaks attracted some attention from the tables full of grumbling, beard-clad wizards, automatically forming a large lump in the far back of the girl's throat. She forced herself to proceed on to the front where the elderly bartender was and pay no mind to the whistlers, hooters and bottom smackers she was passing.

Dim light filled the area up front. The counter was just as worn and chipped away as the flooring. Dust covered some of the stools and formerly stuffed cotton oozed out from various scrapes and gashes due to missing hunks of leather. She had to take a seat next to a man covered in a black cloak, hunched over the counter with a tall mug of whiskey grasped securely in his right hand. She set her purse on the counter while still holding onto it, and was wise enough to keep it off of the floor, due to fear that some thief would most likely sneak up and snatch it without even making her notice.

A folded card in front of her had the labeling 'Aberforth D.'. She saw that bartender down the counter serving a few other men. She let her eyes wander around behind the counter while waiting. There were bottles of many old timey alcoholic drinks including brandy, liquor, wine, beer, rum, vodka, and whiskey. She took the time to contemplate exactly what she was going to request, while also deciding whether or not she would bother using the obliviation spell on this man. Had he refused to serve the girl if he requested a form of identification after telling him she's 'eighteen', then she may go ahead and use it on him.

Also, a glass of merlot was sounding far too dandy for her to possibly give up.

Next to her, the cloaked man hacked and sneezed roughly into his sleeve, jolting Antonia from the suddenness of it. Wanting to give off a polite approach, she mumbled "Bless you."

Immediately, he cocked his head in her direction and fused his cataracted eyes to her own. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid to late forties with graying facial hair and gritty and rotten teeth. She winced at his creepy gesture, and inadvertently tightened her hold on her purse.

"What brings a gorgeous young gal such as yourself up n' 'ere, malady?"

Visibly shuddering, she squeaked "Just w-wanted a drink, is all."

Wheezy, uneven laughter ensued followed by his large and crooked nose being shoved in her locks and steady sniffing to follow. That first hot blow of air out of his nostrils forced the redhead out of her seat and to the other side of the counter in a jiffy.

Already, icy prickles were elongating her arms, forming pellucid goosebumps. Both her environment and the folk occupying the room were giving her the authentic spooks. When her sight caught the bartender's, she nearly fell out of her seat with the force of the chills running down her spine.

Up close, he was not the most unsightly fellow she had seen in a while, but he did carry some minorly unprepossessing features. She took his foggy eyes for example. For some reason, Antonia had always been slightly unnerved by cataracts. Perhaps, she, like most others, just preferred seeing eyes with a clear set of pupils and coloring over the blurred and misty appearance. Yet, she was never one to judge aloud.

His beard was the lengthiest she'd seen all night. It was a deeply gray tinge and ran down past his chest, similar to her headmaster's, actually. The hair sprouting from his head was of the same color, and quite long as well, nearly meeting the length of his beard. He was of a staggering height. He glared down at the girl from his towered peak.

She tilted her head upwards only briefly before he leant downwards to rest his forearms on the counter. He met his eyes with hers and grumbled "An' what brings ye to a shoddy hole like this, miss? Shoont' a young lady such as yerself be lounging around The Broomsticks out on High Street?"

She straightened up her posture, cleared her throat and confidently replied "I like a change of scenery here and there, mister. I tend to fancy shoddy holes and gloomy, _albeit _atmospheric pubs such as this one here."

He scoffed in disbelief, but quickly moved on to ask "How old are ye?"

She was afraid he would ask. It _was _required in just about every bar or pub, so Antonia really should have better prepared herself. She had grown tired of using obliviation just to get her way, not to mention the guilt was really bothering the daylights out of her lately. She had chosen to be honest with this one, shrugging that she could just leave and go elsewhere if she were not served what she originally came for.

"...Sixteen."

"Eh." He leant upwards and garnered a vast, transparent mug from underneath the counter. "What'll ye have, then?"

A spark of triumph combined with befuddlement struck her.

"...You're still serving me, then?"

"Well, did ye come here for somethin' else, pet?" he nearly harassed.

Blushing immensely, she said "Have any merlot?"

He nodded, then busied himself with locating the request. Antonia was happily startled. That had been far more easy than she had presumed before entering the pub. He set her drink down in front of her, then stood upright whilst gazing down at her.

"Thank you, Mister-"

"Ye can call me Aberforth, ma'am," he interjected humbly.

She smirked back at him before sipping her drink. It was bitter, but it also tasted of high quality, exceeding her expectations. She felt a smidgen queasy upon realizing that he was still gawking her down fervently once the mug was nearly half empty.

"What's a lady your age doing in a second-rate tavern on a Friday night anyway?" the elderly barman questioned.

Feeling suddenly embarrassed, she complied "I've been put through the wringer, I suppose."

He chuckled almost cruelly at that.

"Put through the wringer, ye say? Merlin almighty, ye say you're sixteen? Ye think you've faced a fair share of ordeals, do ye? I'll have ye know that yer so-called hardships have _just begun_."

"Well, then don't ask me what my problem is if you are only going to critique me! _I'll _have _you _know that I have lost a very close family member this year. He was only thirty six years of age, and on top of that he was _murdered_! Is that enough of an excuse for you?"

The girl hadn't meant to be so aggressive, but she couldn't help but get wound up whenever someone would raise an eyebrow to her forlorn behaviors. She was beyond frustrated. While it seemed that everyone else had gotten over and moved past Sirius' demise, Antonia cried and resorted to making poor and risky choices everyday.

Aberforth's expression transformed into one of sympathy over his former mocking look.

"My condolences, miss."

She collected herself and mentally chastised herself for being so brash.

"He was my godfather. We were very close with each other...good friends."

"I feel yer pain. I have lost many mates and members o' the kin in my years, but one that stakes me in the heart to this day is the death of my younger sister, Ariana. Just a young lady when she passed...Twas all my fault, really."

He had captivated her interest. She had went from wanting him to just bugger off to enjoying his presence.

"My apologies, sir. If I may ask, how did she…"

"Was in a rather rancorous brawl between my older brother and his close mate. She was in the room with us while we all were shooting a blasphemy of curses at each other...she was struck at some point. To this day, I am not certain which one of us shot the spell her way…" He sighed wearily. "Just fourteen, she was."

'_Tragedy at its finest,' _she mused with a sardonic touch. Ever since she crossed into the wizarding world, she had witnessed, heard of and dealt with more accounts of gruesome deaths than she had ever imagined possible. It made her feel sick.

While polishing a mug, he went on to say "I shall warn ye now that yer not even _close _to being through with dealin' with death, young lady. Oh sure, we all _think _we've seen the worst, and we believe in our hearts that _nothing _will be more heart wrenching than what we've lost here, but once than _Godric forsaken _pendulum swings _just enough _times, we get to experience somethin' even more miserable."

"Thanks for the tip," she mumbled sadly.

"Eh, don't mention it. Say, what's yer name?"

She stiffened slightly, not entirely willing to reveal her identity. Over the last several years, she would only receive an exaggerated and unnecessary amount of alarm upon introducing herself, considering her parents' controversial fame.

"Antonia."

"Lovely name. If I recall correctly, it means 'worthy of praise.' It's of Latin origin, as well, I believe."

She smiled in surprise.

"My, a knowledgeable man you are. Do you know the meanings of many names?"

"Eh, I'm not one to brag, but, yes. Once you've been around for as long as I have, you tend to acknowledge more than a youngster such as yerself would ever think able."

"That's quite fascinating, sir-"

"Please, feel free to call me Aberforth, madam," he kindly yet sternly put.

"...Aberforth. Have you been working here at this Inn for some time now?"

"Ah yes. This coming February will mark my eighty first year of ownership."

"Damn!" Antonia yelped out boldly in spite of being tipsy, then flushing in the cheeks thereafter while he chuckled proudly.

"Yup, been running the pub for quite some time."

Her mug was just about empty by now. Antonia decided to wait for the old man to wear out on his light fit of honorable guffaws before asking for more wine. He, unexpectedly, leant down and brought up the merlot and began to refill the girl's mug before she even had the chance to ask.

"Oh, why, thank you, Aber-"

"So while I've been running my Inn for the last eight decades, my brother had taken a whole different route." He coughed into his leather sleeve before continuing. "Let us just say that he's, well, always been a tad more, eh, _professional _than myself. The man was a born leader, I tell ye. Blown up with ambition and diligence. I must say, he had the kindest heart around. Even as a child, he was wise beyond his years, he was. Oh, how we fought in our youth. Heck, I _loathed _the bastard! Ha ha...we have never been too close over the years. We both went our separate ways once we hit adulthood. He took up a job as a Transfigure-hoopla-something Professor at the turn of the century, then…" He paused and took a great gulp from his own flask. "Got bigger than life itself, the overweening saint…"

His words were sounding oddly familiar to the redheaded attendee. She couldn't quite place her finger on what was so obvious, and it was beginning to irk her.

"...Bigger than life?" she inquired.

He slammed his flask down onto the wooden counter and cleared his throat.

"Oh yeah. I get folk coming in here all the bloody time yakking about just how wonderful the old coot is." He scoffs. "Say he's the _greatest wizard _of all time! Rubbish…"

It then hit her. Her face lit up while she hyperly asked "You wouldn't happen to be related to Dumbledore?"

"Pardon? Y'know _I am _Dumbledore too! It ain't all about 'im!"

"Good Lord! Wow, I never knew Albus had a brother! Ha ha, that's—that's kind of cool!"

"Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled. "So, I suppose you and the old man are close, then?"

Enlightened, she chimed "Yes, very, in fact."

"You attend the school, then? Hogwarts?"

Well, what did he think? That she was just some young _prostitute _of the village? _Of course_ she was attending the school!

"Yes, sir-Aberforth. I am a sixth year student at the moment."

"Eh, that's nice. Gettin' yerself an education. Huh, I see many of my customers who've dropped out to join, _ahem_, darker forces, if ye know what I mean. It's good to see a young lady such as yerself so privileged and willing to make something worthy of herself. I can only hope that you stay out of the mitts of You-Know-Who."

Slightly dumbfounded by his final words, she meekly replied "...Yes, I hope so, as well."

"What House ye in?"

"Gryffindor."

"Ah, I went there 'bout a hundred or so years ago. I believe I was sorted into the Gryffindor House as well. I can't be entirely certain, for my mind is, _unfortunately _starting to go with age."

"Well, the Headmaster was in Gryffindor, as he has told me for himself a while ago, so I think that it makes sense that you were in that House as well," Antonia chipped in, receiving a nod of agreement.

"Aberforth, why aren't you and Albus close? You're both kind and, even similar in my eyes. It seems as if you two would be the best of friends."

"Eh, our resentment towards one another dates back to our late teenage years. He started hanging around with this fellow who was quite attracted to the dark arts, name was Gellert or something of that nature. I din't take much of a liking to his mate. Got into a nasty quarrel with the both o' them the day Ariana passed away. I blame the both of them for her death. In the last century, he's done made a gigantic celebrity out of himself! Leaves _me _in the shadows so he can bathe _pridefully _in the spotlight, the arrogant geezer. The ruthlessness of it all…"

"I understand your anger, Aberforth, but perhaps the two of you could overlook your petty differences now and form a bond, regardless of what's happened in the past."

Just when Antonia had thought that her words of wisdom had inspired the old barman to take that up for consideration, he snickered mirthlessly.

"Words of inebriation, me dear. You speak as if it's possible to repair a shredded newspaper. That's how I compare the _bond _between the eldest brother and myself." He chugged the remainder of his flask and huffed out loudly. "The damage has been done."

"But, still, there must be some small spark inside of you that yearns for the sound of your brother's voice-"

"THE NEWSPAPER HAS BEEN _SHREDDED_!" he repeated blaringly, making the girl flinch at his out-of-the-blue rage. He had attracted some brief attention from the other patrons, allowing him to back down a bit and try to calm himself.

"...I see. I didn't mean to-"

"I'm not upset with _you_, Antonia," he calmly interrupted. "Haven't seen the bastard since summer of '79. I was up here behind this very counter when he came inside with a young woman wearing these thick, black framed glasses and she had this long, brown and curly hair. I-I was actually delighted to see him at the time. It had been nearly _thirty _years since our last confrontation! I thought he was coming in to, well, rekindle our lost brotherhood, thought he finally got over 'imself. I plucked two freshly scrubbed mugs from under 'ere and set them down on _this very spot_. 'Albus!' I say, 'It's been a good, long while, hasn't it?' I called. He looked over at me, for the first time since entering at that second."

A dark look overcame the barman's features.

"He did not look pleased. I'd never seen a man with such a _stoic_, _expressionless _and completely _indifferent _face as his! My word, he said 'Oh, don't you mind me, Ab. I'm only in need of this area for a short while. I've got some _crucial _business to attend to with my lady friend here.' So, offended as I was, I remained tolerant and said 'Well, why don't you two come along up 'ere and have a drink? On the house. On me.' Then what he said next…"

He popped the cork off of a bottle of brandy from beneath the counter with his large thumb and took a mighty gulp. "What that gown wearing, rump ridin' son of a wench said next…"

Antonia shook all over and strongly anticipated his next statement, and she had every right to.

Looking her glaringly in the eyes, he muttered "You don't need to _flatter _yourself, Ab. We'll be in the back."

Antonia was at loss for words.

"FLATTER? Oh, please! Like I'd take so much pride in myself, unlike _him_! Who was he to say that?!"

He slammed his bottle down onto the fragile counter vigorously.

"Least I don't fancy a good _tumble romp _with those of the same sex!"

"...Pardon?"

"Haughty bloke! Huh...Please excuse my bitter ranting, miss. Guess I got a tad carried away this time...can happen when I get drunk enough."

Antonia was stiff as a board in her stool and just about ready to call it a night. This man had definitely needed to take some anger management courses in his down time. The towering barman glazed his stare onto his female pardon's empty mug.

"Another fillin', dove?"

'_Dove?'_

"Um...no thank you, Aberforth. It was a pleasure meeting you, and the wine was lovely!" she nervously implied, then went on to dig around in her purse for money.

"Don't you worry about that, ma'am. It's on me," he put.

"Oh? Are you sure? I mean, it's no trouble, really-"

"No, no, you're all set, madam. Have a well night. An' you be careful out there! Many a' pickpocket's out there in the dusk, as well as...eh, ye have mace or something to protect yerself with, mm?"

"Uh, well, yeah, sure I do. I'll be on my way, then! Thank you for everything!"

He saluted her off while she paced quickly out of the tavern. She managed just a few dizzy wobbles on her way out, not nearly as hammered as the night prior. She was met with a chilly breeze upon opening the door to the entrance and exiting. The start of November had really done well in flaunting the slightly unhinging coolness of the outdoors, especially at this hour.

She wrapped her coat securely around her frame and walked on into the night. The steets were frighteningly quiet as she footed her way through the dirt road towards High Street, then onto the carriages. While she did not have mace, she did have her wand handy, just in case some late-night predators were roaming about. Or Malfoy.

Nothing out of the ordinary had crossed her path in the fifteen minutes it took her to locate the buggies. To her joy, she rode along back to Hogwarts with a bundle of Gryffs'.

She did come to regret not stuffing her invisibility cloak into her bag, for she doubted she could stand another run-in with Filch. To her luck, she had made it up to her dorm without going noticed. A few people were still lounging about in the common room, for it was just twenty minutes to midnight.

Antonia was not too weary, for she had practically slept all day, yet she decided it wise to lie down in her bed and at least try to pass out, for she owed her friends herself that following day. Her introvertive ways were starting to become a nuisance, she knew, and they were likely somewhat annoyed by her reclusive ways in turn.

Her roommates were, as usual, already tucked away into their own beds, sound asleep. Before Antonia was able to drift off, she couldn't help but think back to the barman's odd words regarding Albus.

'_Rump riding?' _

* * *

_Understand she'll go hand in hand, but she'll walk alone in fear_

_Where will she go from here?_


	11. So Close Yet So Far Away

_*Some coarse language contained within_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: So Close Yet So Far Away**

'_Okay...for sure today! I owe them myself! And I miss them all! The arse can screw off! If he leaves, I will stay put!'_

She was practically skipping down to the Great Hall, fully eager to spend the whole of her weekend in her friends presence. She nearly stumbled over her flowy linen pants on the way down the Main Hall's staircase. It felt great to actually be in a hurry for a decent reason. It felt even better to be able to look forward to a weekend without a drop of alcohol to consume, just so long as the mates kept her preoccupied enough, and Antonia _knew _they would.

She smiled valiantly all the way up to her usual spot at the Gryffindor's table. The crew hadn't even noticed her until she took her seat next to Ginny. They all gave her a quick glance upon recognizing her sudden arrival.

"Hello all," she beamed.

"You here to stay this morning?" Ron asked tepidly, though calmly.

"Why, of course, Ronald! Um, is there a _reason _I should not?" she threw back in a cheerful attitude.

"Well, it's just that all this year so far you've had a habit of taking off early for one reason or another," he mumbled back in turn, then proceeded to dig into his pile of waffles that were soaked in syrup.

"Okay, actually, I do have something that I'd like to confess to…"

This got all of their attention, even Luna's, who was normally just gazing off into her own little realm or world.

"You see, I've noticed that Malfoy has been, well, sneaking off to odd places quite a bit as of the last couple months. Like I've said earlier back in September, I have my rightful suspicions that he is under Voldemort's influence. So, I just need to obtain the proper proof in order to officially verify his, well, illicit duties."

"Oh, this again?" Ron sighed.

"Is there a problem, Ron?" Antonia remarked.

"Pff, you honestly believe that Malfoy is a Death Eater, Toni? I mean, don't get me wrong, he's a vain pain in the arse for sure, but we can't just _assume _that he's now one of _them _because of his outrageously conceited mannerisms."

"And we _can _just shrug off what we all saw him do inside of Borgin and Burkes, Ron?"

"_I _didn't get a clear view of him doing anything! There was a bloody pole in the way, and our already poor glimpse was cut short by that hairy scoundrel who damn nearly _caught _us!"

"Are we really going to argue about this? Ron, you have utterly detested his guts just as much as myself since our start here, so why are you being _so _skeptical about his loyalties?"

Antonia knew she'd finally gotten to him when she saw that transformed look in his face. He went sullen and unsure at the same time. Rubbing the back of his neck, he grumbled "How would we get the evidence, anyway?"

And now it was Antonia's turn to sink back down. "I have yet to unravel that, I'm afraid. Yet, I have taken accurate note of his whereabouts. He's been sneaking off to this...dark supply room. I have only been able to get to this room once before. I know it's on the seventh floor, and I believe you can only get through it if you, em, locate a portal of sorts...I'm not quite so sure how I got there myself in the first place."

A few beats of silence passed. Suddenly, Hermione's brows rose and a mien of enlightenment was displayed.

"I think you're referring to the Room of Requirement. I have read about it before, a while ago. I remember little about it, but a several things that stood out were its passage and what it can be comprised of. I believe you are granted access into the room by crossing its barrier at least three times, while envisioning what it is you wish to hide or are in great need of…"

With that, Hermione's eyes rose to Antonia's and a look of confusion sprouted amongst her features. "Were you trying to hide something, Antonia?"

The girl stiffened alertly as the gang stared her down with very intent gazes. "Um, why yes; I was wondering exactly where I could put away my...mother's amulet. You see, Lavender had been pestering me for weeks to borrow it, and I just...couldn't stand it any longer."

Perplexed looks were returned her way while she scooped spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. "Had my fears that she would steal it, I did. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"I can relate," Luna piped it, sweetly breaking the disquieting quiet. "It reminds of my personal need to start keeping my shoes in more undisclosed places, so as to prevent others from stealing them and putting them in hard-to-reach places; of course you remember that, Antonia?"

"Oh yes. Roommates can be dreadful."

"So, what did you see him doing in there?" Ron blurted out as the conversation had eased down.

"Oh, well, he seemed to be putting something away in this large cabinet. I don't know what it was; I had to keep my guard low, obviously. I hid behind some old desks and piles of junk. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, but I failed to decipher any of what he said."

"And had stalking him proven worthy of your time?" Ron threw in, to be scolded by Ginny.

"Oh quit it, would you, Ronald? She's only doing the right thing, you know. _Practicing _for her future career." She paused to smirk and wink to the girl beside her. "If he truly is up to no good, then the last thing we need is him getting away with it."

"Damn right, Gin," Antonia chortled.

Ron abashedly picked at his waffles while grumbling "Still think it's a bloody waste of time," under his breath.

…

Exiting the Great Hall _with _her crew was a first for the year, and Antonia was quite proud of herself for it. Her gleeful mood was quickly washed away once she felt a feeble tap on her shoulder.

She turned around to face Neville, who looked more on the gloomy side. "Oh, hello Neville."

"I...eh, never managed to locate a velvet wallet last night, Antonia."

Guilt struck her upon the dawning of the night before. She had practically stood him up. At that moment she had never felt so much remorse consume her all at once. How could she? Was all the *brouhaha* that had culminated her evening spent in The Hog's Head really worth declining an innocent friend, especially in such a cheap manner?

"Neville, I-"

"What? Had other things to attend to? You could have at least told me before I went off on a futile scavenger hunt in _your _bedroom, only to end up feeling like a damn fool once I returned to realize that you had scurried off to do better things."

"No, no! Not at all, Neville! That's not how it went. It was unexpected, really. You see, just moments after you left, Seamus came up to me and-"

"What? _Forced _you to tag along with him off somewhere?" he scoffed.

"Well, well, yeah! Actually, yes, he _begged _that I join him in…" she stopped when she saw the uselessness of it all.

"Rubbish." He brushed past her to get ahead, obviously very hurt by her rude gesture as well as her poorly attempted lying right there.

"Wait! Neville!"

She ran up to meet him, though he didn't slow his stride. "I-I'm sorry, alright? What I did was—was very, out of the question, abrupt, plainly rude, asinine and-"

"Desperate?" Neville sighed, clearly fed-up.

"...Please, just hear what I have to say-"

"No, I want _you _to hear what _I _have to say, Antonia." He halted at the end of the corridor and turned to face her. "I like you. I-I have for a while, now. Last night...last night I, well, wanted to discreetly take you out for dinner, I don't know, somewhere nice in Hogsmeade." He frowned in a pained fashion and averted his eyes downwards in slight abashment. "You proved yourself well last night, and you gave off the impression that maybe you didn't feel the same, at all. I hinted that maybe your method of, well, blowing me off was just your way of saying _no thank you_."

Now, Antonia hadn't seen that coming. She only felt worse from it. He had planned to take her out on a lovely date, and she, without hardly a _first _thought, decided her plan would be more fun. She felt more egocentric than she could comfortably handle at that moment. Why had she been so...stupid?

"I had no idea, Neville...Really, you feel this way for me?"

His hazel eyes met hers then. "...Yes."

Her cheeks flushed to a deep shade of red at the truth. Not that she exactly had similar feelings for the amiable fellow, but that didn't determine that she couldn't work her way up to it. She had to give him a chance, and he really did deserve it, after all the cold shoulder she'd been giving him for the past two months.

"If you wouldn't mind, Antonia, I'd like to take you out on a proper date sooner or later. Um, preferably sooner."

She giggled at his proposal. "Alright, then. You have yourself a deal, Longbottom."

…

"So did you have a grand time at, eh, Hog's Head, then?" Neville asked as the two strolled through one of the antique shops in Hogsmeade later on that day.

While fumbling a crystal ball in her hands and skimming the counter for an indication of a price, Antonia replied "I spoke with the barman there, Aberforth..._Dumbledore_."

"Aberforth Dumb—oh! Wow, I didn't know he had a brother working around here!"

"Those were my thoughts exactly when he told me. Actually, he seemed reluctant to reveal such a thing, for apparently the two don't get along very well. He told me that they just differ too much to be close, I suppose. Also, he lost his younger sister at a very young age, and he seemed to speculate that her death was all Albus' and his mate's fault."

"Ah, that's a shame. Family should always stick together, especially in times like these."

'_Forty galleons?!'_

"Ah, yes, I solemnly concur, Neville."

"I always do enjoy your unique choice of words, Toni. Sometimes you speak as if you are like, a wise philosopher or an um, highly scholastic guru, or-"

"Just a clever and sharp thinker?" she interjected, quite flattered enough by his listings.

"Well, yeah, that too," he put in shyly.

"Oh, you're a sweet one, Neville. A real gentleman."

She placed the pricey crystal ball back in its place and swayed down the aisle in search for another more inexpensive product. Neville tagged along wherever she went, conversing to her on various topics and experiences over his summer and from the start of school while she silently listened to his verbal content in turn.

A dark violet shawl that shimmered from a distance in its coat of heavy glitter caught her view. She skipped over to where she saw the elegant garment by a shelf of voodoo dolls. Neville hurried to catch up with her, nearly having to bring himself into a full-on sprint to do so.

"Like that piece, eh?" he asked once right at her side.

She ran her right hand over it from its hung state on a hook and nodded. "It's lovely...oh! Just seven galleons! Right on!"

Neville chuckled at her overjoyed attitude and sudden livelihood that had seemed to blossom out of her. She jerked the sheer accessory from its place on the hook and wrapped it around her shoulders. She then sashayed over to the nearest mirror and gave a graceful swirl in front of it.

"How do ya like it, Neville? Does it suit me well enough?" she inquired as he took a step next to her.

"It does indeed, Toni. You look...marvelous, in fact."

She smiled valiantly at both his compliment and at her own reflection, something she rarely did those days. "Thank you, lovely."

He nodded before taking off to the next aisle over to achieve a rather interesting looking antique wristwatch that was supposedly charmed with years of good luck. And that was something Mister Longbottom had always felt he needed more of, as well of the often troubled redheaded witch.

* * *

_Reminisce: Late Spring of 1996_

She was hardly able to pack up her belongings back in the dormitory.

With Sirius' death having been just hours prior, she had been vomiting on and off as well as going into hysterical fits that spotted her vision with black dots and made her legs give out momentarily. She had been completely traumatized.

The mates had tried to console her in the hours past, but she chose to shut them out entirely to collect herself in solitude, which was, in reality, having the opposite effect. She felt as if she were losing her mind, alone in her dorm for all this time. Her lone position was only causing her more harm.

After spending an unknown amount of time locked away, she chose to storm out with not a scrap of her possessions in hand, but rather, left be inside the dorm. Hermione and Ginny had been almost directly outside the door when she had bolted out, fuming to the high heavens.

"Antonia, wait-" Hermione called.

"Fuck the luggage! Just—just leave it all in there! I don't want it!"

The school year had ended and students all over the school were packing away, preparing to leave for the summer. Antonia was far too stunned to really go through with anything at that time, including packing up her belongings.

Her next move was to get outdoors to a place where she could really be alone for a while. She didn't care if that time would only be comprised of immense sobbing and occasional upchucking from wound up, wild nerves going at war inside of her; she just needed to close her eyes and see him again, as best as she could, alive and healthy.

She was one small turn from being basked in a warm ray of sunlight before she was hit from her right side by something extraordinarily brusque and powerful. She was thrown down to her side to crash down on her hips, causing searing physical pain to accompany her tortured mentality.

She hadn't realized what had just happened at first, and almost assumed that she merely tripped and fell over her own weak and clumsy feet, until she felt someone claw at her right arm from a ways above her. In an instant she was met with a thunderous strike across her cheek, knocking her head to the side, nearly straight off her neck.

A piercing scream escaped her lips from the blow; her cheek throbbed like never before. She had barely gotten the chance to even perceive what the hell was going on before she heard perhaps the darkest and most deadly remark ever addressed to her in her life.

"FUCKING FILTHY CUNT!" A strained voice above her boomed, that of Draco Malfoy. A kick of purely saturated venom hit her left thigh before another admonishment of "My father's going to prison because of your fucking sincerity!"

The next thing she endured was his grip going for a large lock of her hair and yanking with the strength of a chronically infuriated troll.

"I am going to fucking murder you, Potter!" He backhanded her just as he did before. "Once I'm through with you, you won't have any feeling left!" He repeated his action, causing her to screech out.

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" she wailed as the students who'd gathered around the two had been too dumbfounded to get the attention of a prof.

"You're going to be _soo_ fucking numb that you'll BEG for death!" He shoved his foot against her ribcage, resulting in an eruption of tremendous ache. At that moment the miserably placed witch had never cried so hard in her life. This was hell at its finest.

She meekly peered up at him from her lain position on the cool ground and thought arduously of a way to try and reason with him before he did accomplish just as he'd promised. She had never seen him so disgruntled in both mood and appearance. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and he had light bags underneath his lower lids. His black dress shirt was only buttoned up half way, and unevenly at that, with some of the buttons unaligned with where they were supposed to be attached. His hair was uncombed and as unkempt as it could be, though still looking acceptable to the public eye, though perhaps not his own household.

His glare paralyzed the victimized girl in all the wrong places, concluding in a loss of sensation in her legs, arms, hands, and just about everywhere else. If his intentions were to drag her off someplace and do something unimaginable to her, then he could most certainly go for it, for now would have made for a prime time to do as such.

He stopped beating her once her welled up eyes met his own. He continued to pant heavily and keep his expression contorted with revolt. It took everything Antonia had to keep from blaspheming his waste of a father, even praising his arrest and sentencing to come, but she had to hold it down, for her own sake. As much as she could have literally agreed to kiss death in order to again see her godfather, she could not let her demise fall into the control of this dipshit. That would be dishonoring enough to shame the late godfather himself. She knew Sirius wouldn't want that for her either. He wanted her to live.

With an afraid albeit faultless stare and the intense all around shakes, she mumbled "Please."

That was all it took. Some form of rare, twisted empathy emerged from within him, for he so kindly spat on her cheek then stomped off with a final, simple insult of calling her a bitch. She should have sighed in relief, but did not, and could not. A large crowd of students from all years and House's were gathered around her, all gawking down at her as if she were some astounding attraction of a freak show or something to the likes of that. Frankly, it was getting the best of her.

She found no strength to bring herself to her feet now, for she was far too sore in the heart and limbs. She sobbed to herself on the cold stone floor for what could have been just over a minute before a fourth year Hufflepuff boy held out his hand for her.

With frail reluctance, she took his hand and did what she possibly could to bring herself to her feet, he lifting her up more than she could using her wobbly legs. She hurried outside straight away, prepared to grieve more than she had originally thought feasible.

There she would lay out in the meadow beyond Hagrid's hut in the melancholiest of bearings. She would writhe and fall apart and cry so much that she could swear she felt her tear ducts throb from exhaustion. She would continue to grieve out here all by herself for the next hour and fifteen minutes until the mates found her. Neville would have to carry her in his arms back up to the castle while she limply laid in his hold, speechless, bewildered and profoundly upset.

She would only remain in the infirmary for a brief moment, then take off once Madam Pomfrey was off fetching an alleviating brew from her medicine cabinet. She hadn't reported her assault to the headmaster on her way out, and she hadn't even gathered her luggage. She willingly left it all behind in spite of being far too depressed and insouciant to bother hauling her shit back to the Dursley hellhold where she would unhingedly mourn up in her bedroom for the Lord knew how long.

* * *

Neville was a sweet guy, he really was. She did admire his physical complexion as well. Yes, he was a charming fellow inside and out. Yet, Antonia couldn't find it within herself to muster up feelings of attraction back his way. She had never felt romantically towards the other Gryffindor, and assumed that she never would.

Like Ron, he to her played out as more of a platonic friend, or a mutual pal. He took on all the traits to qualify for Antonia's mental list of preferences for a friend, a few being his loyalty, given respect, low key bravery, amiability and his tendency to treat others kindly above all else. And he, like Ron, did not emit that lovey-dovey, down-low tingle that the girl had so much pined for in a man.

As said before, she was drawn to men who had some years on her, and while the crew in her age group knew how to make her chest ache with hearty laughter and stretch her lips out to the most gallant of grins, she still fell head over heels for a certain man with a wretched condition of lycanthropy.

This little personal regulation of hers did bother her, for her long-suffered crush over the man was utterly fruitless considering his relationship with Tonks. Not that Toni disliked the young woman in any way, shape or form. In fact, she found the gal to be quite nice, cool and outstanding in many aspects, but she had to confess that it did wring at her heart just a tad.

She at least didn't fret over this around the clock. She had too much else to worry about with the inevitable and upcoming war and all. First and foremost, she still had to determine the second-to top enemy's plans that took place in the Room of Requirement, and now that Antonia was aware of just how to get into the room thanks to her bookly friend, she had her hopes high that progress would soon be made.

…

On the night of November fifth, she caught him ascending the stairway amongst a hefty pool of students. As much as Antonia craved following him right on his tracks so as to not get too far behind, her wise nature and common sense suggested that she play it safe and retrieve her invisibility cloak before catching up with him. With luck, he would still be in the room by the time she had her cloak and had made it up to the seventh floor. She had no time to waste.

Hastily, she rushed up the stairs towards the Fat Lady, spat the password once there and hopped through before waiting for the portrait to open entirely. She kept her fingers crossed that her roommates wouldn't have much to say to her because she really didn't have the time or patience. All it took was a good, coherent earful from Draco's lips up in that room and she just may obtain the evidence she needed to verify his duties, thereby receiving the justice she deserved.

She thought back to Ron's insinuation on how stalking the arse was a 'bloody waste of time'. She could relate when she thought it through his perspective, but she, on the other hand, had been beaten, sexually harassed, manipulated and bullied in too many other ways to decline a beautiful chance at sweet vengeance on her part. Perhaps tonight would be the night that she could get the dirt on him.

She gave a quick wave to the Patil twins as she entered the dorm, garnered her cloak from her trunk and hurried off without having to deal with so much as a "hello" from either girl, and she was thankful for that.

It may have been quarter to nine on a Tuesday night, but that didn't faze the ambitious girl one bit. If he was out and about, she had all right to do the same, yeah? Well, even if she didn't, she didn't really give a damn nonetheless.

Once on the seventh floor, she draped her cloak over herself and headed for the area where she was before. She mentally recanted the steps that were to be followed in order to 'unlock' the entrance. She stepped in and out of the large threshold three times while envisioning her 'excessive need' to hide a loose strand of her hair, as well as be in the proximity of Draco.

Once she opened her eyes she was only a short distance from the perpetrator. In a minor panic, she backed away and watched him place something inside of the cabinet, though she failed to arrive in time to see what exactly it was.

'_Blast!'_

She huffed silently to herself and decided to warily foot her way closer to him and at least hear his murmurs.

She could hardly decipher his hushed incantation of "Harmonia Nectere Passus."

His whisper had taken her interest greatly, though she did not know its meaning. The cabinet's door was then reopened. She was almost too afraid to move in any closer than where she was just six feet behind him. Any slight noise made by her would grasp his imminent attention, surely. He would also be very well aware of who his stalker was, considering his accuracy with the last incident with the invisibility cloak on the Express.

At the same time, she had to see what he was trying to get rid of, if he was indeed trying to dispose of anything for that matter. Would the floorboards creak if she were careful enough upon tiptoeing her way further in? Furthermore, was it a risk that would be worth it?

She tilted her head whilst keeping still, making absolutely no sound minus the soft breathing between them both, that luckily went unheard on both parties. She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the object, or rather piece of fruit he was holding: a green apple. She stared silently as he fumbled it in his palm to observe the other side, to see that it had a chunk missing out of it, looking as if it were bitten into.

Some tense beats went on before he closed the cabinet up and sped around on his heel, nearly knocking a startled gasp from the invisible girl's lips. Her lucky stars must have been shining bright tonight, for he walked off in the other direction upon exiting the room, suspicious of no one and nothing.

She had uncovered not only how to get into this portal of a room, she also witnessed Draco put an apple away, mutter some fancy dialect then withdraw the said fruit to see that it had been tampered with by someone or something's teeth. While these factors within themselves made for well accomplished goals on her part, she had never been so muddled.

…

'_5 November 1996_

_As thankful as I was to have finally uncovered Draco's secret whereabouts, I was just as disappointed to see that his business has given me no real answers. Truthfully, I would have to get into that mind of his to see what he's really up to, and I'm not exactly excelled in Occlumency, considering the dreadful incident from last January with Severus._

_I suppose this means that I have no choice but to figure out another way I can detect his motives, but how the bloody hell I am to do just that? The prick's shady this year as a shadow cast by his large mate Crabbe outdoors in the blaring sunlight! Ah hell, there's no need to joke around in times like these. What with Voldemort on my bum, eh, that sounded very wrong. And that stupid 'assignment' Albus gave me with getting on Slughorn's 'good side'. At this point, I'm just like 'whatever' with everything. I've had my fill, dammit!_

_I plan to return to The Hog's Head this Friday evening alone, for I don't want or need my clique knowing that I've become a practical alcoholic as of the last, oh god, five months? I don't like to think back to the day he died, I can't, really. It always hurts too much._

_So what to do now? Sod off and live-out the rest of my days binging on red wine and daiquiris while using this torn little notebook as a therapist?_

_Lord, I need someone to help me get away from myself.._

_~Antonia' _

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_a/n: Thanks for reading. Stay tuned...& review? ;)_


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